


Chaos Theory: Can Butterflies Have Blonde Hair?

by Phoenix_Waves



Series: I Now Pronounce You: Blonded for Life [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bottom Harry Potter, But Would It Be Draco If He Listened?, Case Fic, Divorce, Elder Wand (Harry Potter), Emotionally Repressed Harry Potter, F/M, Gay Sex, Getting Back Together, Harry Discourages Ginny Bashing, Head Auror Harry Potter, Heterosexual Sex, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Infidelity, Kidnapped Ginny Weasley, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Muggle Culture, Muggle London, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Protective Draco Malfoy, Protective Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Reference to September 11 Attacks, Referenced Draco Malfoy in Drag, Rimming, Separations, Strained Parent/Child Relationship, Top Draco Malfoy, Vaginal Sex, Wandless Magic, Wandlore (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Waves/pseuds/Phoenix_Waves
Summary: Hermione described Chaos Theory once and, ever since, Harry can't help but wonder if butterflies can have blonde hair?Harry's life is right on track with how things were "supposed" to be. The 26-year-old has just been made Head Auror, his best mates are starting their family, and Hermione's even on track to become Minister for Magic one day. There's only one problem: nobody knows that his "happily-ever-after marriage" to his Quidditch star wife has actually gone to shite. When Ginny disappears and their skeletons come to light, Head Auror Harry Potter becomes the prime suspect in her disappearance. Draco Malfoy's Auror pursuits were abandoned long ago along with their "partnership," but, when all else looks bleak, he just might be the only one who can help.Written so that it can be read and understood independently. Sequel to Draco Hearts Spice Girls and Harry Potter and Part 2 of the "I Now Pronounce You: Blonded For Life" Series.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: I Now Pronounce You: Blonded for Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636441
Comments: 47
Kudos: 159





	1. Prologue (The Butterfly Effect)

**Author's Note:**

> (See end notes for updates on changes in update schedule)
> 
> Chaos Theory is written so that it can be read and understood independently of Part 1, but give "Draco Hearts Spice Girls and Harry Potter" (Part 1 of the series) a read if you're interested in seeing how it all got started (or just bored, waiting between updates).
> 
> **Possible Trigger Warnings**  
> Draco's experience of being at MACUSA on 911 and the impact it had on his life is talked about briefly; PTSD is hinted at.
> 
> Past miscarriage mentioned. 
> 
> **Maybe not triggers, but possibly not your cup of tea warnings**  
> Talks of infidelity, themes of separation and divorce, brief mentions of Draco in Drag and brief references to Drag Queens/ Drag Culture.

**Summer 2006**

"So, what's the big deal? The bloke had a time-turner. Honestly, I'm not sure why MACUSA didn't step in as much as he misused the bloody thing!"

"No he does _not_ have a time-turner, Ron. Muggles don't _have_ time-turners," Hermione corrected as she seamlessly switched positions to feed the newborn baby pressed to her bosom (she was still such a squishy little thing).

Ron looked perplexed. ".....Then.... Blimey! How'd he keep going back in time then?!"

Harry laughed into his pint as Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "It was a _movie_ , Ron. How many times do I have to tell you, just because it happens on the screen does not mean it happened. It's just special fx."

Ron frowned as he tried to comprehend muggle storytelling. Harry found that one of the funniest parts about his best mates' union was Hermione's continued attempts at introducing Ron to muggle culture. This week, she'd apparently made him watch _The Butterfly Affect_ starring Ashton Kutcher.

Harry took off his glasses and let his long hair free from its bun as he relaxed against the trunk of a large beech tree. It was a clear, peaceful day off and Harry was enjoying being on uncle duty instead of Auror duty for a change. They were currently sat out in the orchard behind The Burrow's garden watching the kids "play quidditch" (Teddy and Vicky were the only ones old enough to have figured out how to get off the ground at all but Dominique, Luis, Mols, Lucy, and even little Fred and Roxie were giving it their best shots -- even if it _did_ just mean dragging toy brooms around while carrying a quaffle). They could just make out Arthur in the distance trying out his new muggle grill and Bill, Percy, and George on standby in case he accidentally set the whole place ablaze. 

"The concept was real enough, though, and it's exactly why we had to be so careful when we _did_ have the time turner. It's Chaos Theory: the idea that very small changes in the system can result in very big, very different outcomes. Like how the flapping of a butterfly's wings in the wind today can influence the very time, place, and path of a tornado weeks from now."

"Huh..." Ron pondered and screwed up his face in thought. "I wonder what little things could've changed our paths."

Harry laughed. "I don't know, mate, we've had pretty crazy lives. I reckon if we go down the road of what could have been, we'll be going all night."

"Yea, yea -- I know. But not the whole ' _Voldermort kept fucking up your life_ ' thing but, like, little things -- like, if I hadn't ate that shepherd's pie that one time, would I be with Hermione?"

"Oh, Ron, you're always eating. I'm sure you would've eventually found _something_ to eat that would've done the trick," she quipped and Ron sniggered.

"I do _not_ need that visual." Harry shivered and shook his head briskly. Hermione's jaw hit the ground when she realized her mistake.

"Real mature, guys." She shook her head, cheeks now glowing a rosy pink.

"No, like -- Harry, remember when you almost had that thing with Malfoy?"

Harry froze.

"Like that one split second decision to partner up with the prat instead of leaving him out to dry that day could've potentially changed the whole course of your life as you know it!"

Harry's eyes went wide with shock at the unexpected turn of conversation.

"Anyways, thank Merlin _that_ didn't happen!" Ron chuckled and shook his head in relief. "Now if only you and Gin would go ahead and have some kids like the rest of us."

_"Ron! Stop pressuring them!"_

_"I'm only saying--"_

Harry was only half listening at this point. He stared off into the distance, deep in thought until--

"Watch me, Harry! Watch me!" Teddy -- with his signature shock of electric blue hair -- implored as he flew around their heads then aimed his broom upwards. "I bet I can do the Wrongski Feint!"

Harry jolted upright and the three best friends all fixed each other with wide eyes before they whipped out their wands, at the ready. 

_"Teddy, no! Don't even think about it!"_


	2. Inauguration

**Sunday, 14th January, 2007**

"Nope. Absolutely not. Nobody said anything about a speech!"

"Because you wouldn't have shown up at all if they had! Really now, Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes, already exasperated from her efforts as she and Ron tried to usher him back towards the front of the room. There, a makeshift stage had been erected in front of that ridiculous _Fountain of Magical Brethren_. She handed Ron a squirming baby Rose -- who was dressed in a white, frilly poof of fabric with pink bows -- and brushed the wrinkles out of her own powder blue gown.

"Think of it this way, mate," Ron clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder while wrangling the curly, redheaded 8-month-old in his other arm. "You stare down the dark arts every day, what's ten minutes in front of the wizarding elite and a gallery full of press?"

Harry glared at him until Ron finally shot him an apologetic smile. He knew it made no sense but, after all this time, he still despised being the center of attention. He had no problem talking about how he or the team caught some scumbag dark wizard or walking the press through a safety plan, but all the " _Savior_ " and " _Auror Extraordinaire_ " talk still made him cringe.

"I don't understand why they couldn't have just sent out a memo or thrown a line somewhere in the _Daily_ _Prophet_ and called it a day," he said, sourly, and tried to loosen his tie only to have his hand swatted away by a disapproving Hermione.

Harry was told that it would be a _small_ ceremony. _Small._ So when he arrived that evening to find that the entire atrium of the Ministry of Magic had been completely transformed for a black tie event complete with little clothed tables, seating charts, and a band, he had had half a mind to turn right back around and nope right on out of there.

"Come off it, mate! It's not like it's everyday you become Head Auror." Ron rolled his eyes though his smug smile betrayed his pride.

"And you only have to say a few words! I've already written down some thoughts in case you need help."

He frowned down at the note cards she shoved into his hand and was about to protest when he was distracted by an annoyingly familiar, smooth, baritone voice that made him bristle.

_"It's worth considering, sir. Hosting an international sporting event is always a bit of a coin flip, you see. Take the muggle Olympics: while it has a massive potential for increased trade and revenue, it often results in crushing debt that can devastate the economy of the host town."_

Ron screwed up his face and twisted round, oblivious to the baby happily slobbering all over the lapel of his dress robes. "Is that _Blaise Zabini_?"

Harry turned to find that the Slytherin was, indeed, seated at a nearby table in full salesman mode as he attempted to rub elbows with the disinterested looking foreign wizard sat next to him. Harry thought he vaguely recognized the man.

"Is that... Is that the Bulgarian Minister for Magic?" Hermione asked through narrowed eyes.

Harry did a double take and his eyes went wide as memories from long ago came floating to mind. Minister Oblansk now had a fair share more grey hairs than black and looked warier than he had when Harry had first met him what felt like a lifetime ago in the ministry box at their very first Quidditch World Cup.

_"Well, if you'd like some help getting ahead of the impending debt of next year's Cup, then Z &M International may just be your answer. You might have heard that my partner and I did some financial advising for MACUSA in the States?"_

"What is that prat up to?" Ron frowned.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione waited and then rolled her eyes when they both stared at her blankly. "Bulgaria's slated to host the next Quidditch World Cup. Can you imagine the profit investors stand to make if they can get in on the ground floor? I'm sure it would be the opportunity of a lifetime for Zabini and Malfoy's investment firm."

Harry stiffened at the name and hoped they didn't notice.

"Malfoy? I wonder what _that_ pointy git is up to?" He looked at Harry sideways making the heat creep up his neck. The last thing he needed right now was for Ron to forget his filter, especially in earshot of Blaise Zabini. 

Luckily, a little white haired wizard walked on stage and called for everyone to take their seats.

"Oooh! It looks like it's almost time!" Hermione said as outgoing Head Auror Gawain Robards prepared to take the stage."We'd better go and grab our seats, Harry. Are you going to be alright?" She asked, eying him warily. He sighed, defeated, and nodded his agreement. 

"That's the spirit, mate! Do it for the people!" Ron exclaimed, holding Rose with outstretched arms so that Harry came face-to-face with that irresistible little face that now so resembled both of his best mates. His heart melted.

"Rosie, don't you want to see your Uncle Harry become the youngest Head Auror ever inaugurated?" She cooed loudly making Harry smile and Hermione giggle. "See, that settles it then." Ron said smugly.

Harry laughed as he reached out to tickle his goddaughter, "Okay, okay. Only for Rose."

"They have us seated at the head table with you so we'll see you in a moment, Harry," she said, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear.

He nodded and Ron clapped him on the back once more. "Good luck, mate!"

He watched as they made their way to the one long, rectangular table ahead of all of the smaller circular tables dispersed amongst the room. Andromeda and Teddy were already seated there. Teddy, all dressed up in junior dress robes and sporting purple hair tonight, spotted him and waved enthusiastically. Harry smiled warmly as he returned it. Minister Shacklebolt was there, as well, draped in royal red robes and sitting with his wife by his side. He raised a glass in Harry's direction and winked when he caught his eye. Robards' wife was sat next to them with a seat saved for the ornery old man now up on stage and saying things like _"I've witnessed this young man transform into --"._ Harry's smiled waned, however, when his gaze landed on his own wife who sat beside the empty chair awaiting him.

Ginny looked truly radiant: she'd worn a red cocktail dress with little spaghetti straps, magicked her hair into beautiful, flowing waves, and even put on blush and bright red lipstick that all made her appear to glow. He watched as she smiled and nodded, playing her part as she always did, and wondered if he was the only one who noticed the forlorn look in her eyes.

"And, without further ado, it is with extreme joy and honor that I present to you: Head Auror, Harry Potter!" Robards concluded his speech and was met with a sonorous round of applause.

A few beats passed before Harry realized that his friends were all frantically gesturing for him to move! He started and slowly approached the podium, smiling mechanically and far too aware of the amount of eyes on him.

"Erhm..." he said, nervously, as he peered out at the crowd. He looked down at the cards Hermione had given him and frowned as he shuffled through them and lines popped out that made him cringe like: _"Ever since I was a young boy--"_ and _"It is with my undying duty that I pledge--"_. He laughed when he got to the end and saw Ron's sloppy, hastily scrawled handwriting: _"I plan to kick butt and take names at an all time rate."_

He shook his head and decided to do what he usually did: wing it.

"Erhm... Sorry, I suck at speeches..." He thought for a moment. He could tell them that he was grateful that the job had given him a sense of purpose again or, at the very least, it had served as a great distraction whenever life was hard but not _Voldemort hard_. Of course, since most things in his life counted as hard on average and complicated at best, it meant that he had utterly poured every bit of himself into it in these past eight years (including training) which, he recognized, was the main reason why he was being promoted so early in the first place. Should he tell them that it was probably ruining his marriage? Or that, despite the fact that this move theoretically meant more paper-pushing behind a desk and less danger and time out in the field, that the idea of sitting still terrified him more than facing dark magic?

"Gawain, thank you for your support and guidance over the years and I wish you the best in your upcoming retirement. I only hope to make you, the team, and all of you who came out to support me today proud. Thank you."

There were cheers and applause, his family and friends clapping the loudest at the head table. Harry smiled nervously and bowed to allow Robards to place the inaugural medal around his neck.

He'd barely made it off the stage before he was bombarded with handshakes and claps on the back and way too many _"Good one, Harry!" and "Way to go, Harry!"_ s to count. He started to head to his seat but the open bar in the back of the room was looking awfully inviting and he reasoned that there was no way he was going to make it through the night without a drink. A very _stiff_ drink.

Harry mouthed " _Be right back"_ to his friends and began to wind his way between the tables towards the bar. He dished out little waves of his hand or nods of his head as people called out to him but kept his eyes on the prize: good, ministry-special-events-grade firewhiskey. He was halfway there when he stopped in his tracks and found himself filled him with a subtly rising anger.

There, at the end of the bar, sat Blaise Zabini -- looking every inch the definition of _"debonaire"_ with his posh robes and chiseled jaw -- next to a giggling and fawning Ginny Potter. Harry felt as if ice slowly spread through his veins as he watched the slight linger of her fingertips on his arm as she laughed and the light finally, _finally_ find its way back into her eyes.

As if she could sense his gaze, she turned and they locked eyes causing her to abruptly drop her hand and nod her goodbyes to Blaise.

There was still a hint of pink on her cheeks when she reached Harry but she disguised it with a smug smile.

"Well hello, Mister Big Shot," she teased as she titled her head up to kiss him hastily on the lips. 

His eyes narrowed. He was just about to ask what in the bloody hell that was with Zabini when a photographer interrupted.

"Over here! Over here! A photo for the _Daily Prophet?_!"

She laced her fingers with his and he forced a terse smile right as the bright light flashed, leaving him temporarily blinded. 

"Ginny Potter, Britain's favourite Quidditch sweetheart! Do you mind giving us a word about what Harry's inauguration means to you?"

"Sorry, Harry." Ginny blushed, sheepishly, and hastily followed the reporter.

He sighed and shook his head. She hated the press. 

He looked back towards the over crowded path to his table, full of people eagerly waiting to talk to him. Ahead, that pompous arse, Zabini, was still sat at the bar. Harry detoured left and relaxed slightly when he realized he was mere feet away from a quick exit.

* * *

Harry exhaled a sigh of relief when he exited the lift on Level 2, thanking Merlin that the floor was mercifully empty with the team still downstairs at the ceremony.

He roamed the empty rows of cubicles that made up the bullpen, pausing at the one that had been his for the past four and a half years. Gains, the rookie fresh out of training, had already started unloading his things and he scoffed at the Puddlemere United poster that now hung where his Cannons one had. 

Across the way was where Ron had once sat before he'd left to join George at the shop more than two years ago now. So much had changed in the last 6 years. So many people had come and gone. But he had remained and he had long learned that he couldn't always count on people to stay -- it was out of his control. What he _could_ control, however, was being damn good at his job.

He made his way over to his new office where the familiar plate reading _Head Auror Robards_ had been replaced with a shiny new plaque. _Head Auror Potter_.

He crossed the threshold slowly, reality gradually setting in: It had finally happened. He was finally here.

Harry sat in the big chair behind the desk and kicked his feet up, experimentally. He was surprised to find that there was an array of congratulatory gifts neatly awaiting him on one corner of the desk. He eyed a box of cigars from Kingsley and chuckled when he spotted a basket of dirigible plums. It was an exquisite bouquet of flowers, however, that really caught his eye. Mesmerized by the colorful arrangement, he held his breath and reached out to gently stroke the petals on one of the tropical plants.

There was a time when he would have searched for a card, but he knew better now. He'd received anonymous flowers on 4 other occasions in as many years and they never came with a card.

He bit his lip when he pulled away, a useless question on his mind. He knew it was never helpful to let his thoughts go down _that_ particular road... He still hadn't recovered from the last time he'd made the mistake of reading too much into the sweet gesture and wound up connecting dots he shouldn't have. 

The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts and he was immediately on his feet, wand drawn and raised at the ready.

"Who's there?" he said, holding his wand high.

Anavi Chopra, the usually understated executive secretary, shuffled into view wearing a stunningly vibrant royal blue and white embroidered saari. Her hazel eyes went wide when she spotted the raised wand. 

"Oh! My apologies, Mr. Potter!" Harry hastily relaxed his wand hand and she breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Sorry to startle you, sir, but I've been looking everywhere for you!" 

It was obvious that she'd just left the party, a half-filled champaign flute still in hand. 

"Are you ok, sir? What're you doing up here?" she asked, looking around the room suspiciously. 

He sighed. "I just needed a breather, Anavi. This all is just... A lot... You know?"

She smiled, knowingly. "You'll be fine, Harry. I know it's a lot of change, but, you'll adjust. Shoot, look at me! I've been Robards' secretary for ten years -- what am I to do without the big bloke here yelling left and right?"

She was a polished witch in her late 30s with a reputation for being _very_ good at her job. Harry supposed you sort of had to be when working for a stickler like Robards.

He laughed.

"Well, I'm seldom a yeller but I can promise to keep you on your toes by being insufferably disorganized," he smiled, apologetically.

"Well, I welcome the challenge, sir." She smirked wryly and crossed her arms, champagne swirling with the movement. "Now you've _really_ got to get back to the ceremony. Losing the guest of honor in the first hour does _not_ reflect well on me."

"Very well," he sighed while mentally planning to duck out after an hour, max.

She chuckled lightly and made to exit but paused when she noticed the flowers.

"Oh my... Pink snapdragons, purple statice, and... birds of paradise? What a truly unique and lovely arrangement..." she said, slightly awed. 

Harry blinked back at her, surprised. A small smile curled his lips as his eyes were drawn back to the colorful bouquet and his heart warmed, fondly, in spite of himself. 

"Wow, you really are a wealth of knowledge," he said in a low, distracted voice.

She cleared her throat and he started again. "Shall we, Mr. Potter?"


	3. Bridges

**Monday, 15th January, 2007**

Harry was dreaming of haunting grey eyes and whispered ' _I love you'_ s when he felt wet kisses on his skin. At first he thought he was still dreaming until he found himself surrounded, not by the citrusy smell of bergamot from the abandoned fantasy, but by the familiar, faint scent of roses. He kept his eyes shut as the kisses traveled from his lips. To his neck. Down his chest. And then down, down, down as a hand worked to free him from his pajama pants and a hot, wet mouth wrapped around him. 

Finally, Harry opened his eyes to watch messy red hair bob up and down, his wife slurping enthusiastically along his length. 

A fleeting, yet infuriating, thought from last night flickered across his mind but then Ginny looked at him with bright blue eyes that held an unuttered plea as she hallowed her cheeks and sucked fervently. 

_"Shite."_ He hissed and wove his fingers in her hair, trying to resist the urge to hold her head steady and move his hips to fuck her throat.

Ginny came up for air and shifted to straddle his hips, slowly sheathing him in tight, wet, heat. Pleasure built deep in his groin as she rocked her hips, slowly at first, then more urgently as she reflexively squeezed around him. 

She was already so wet and the moans from her lips worked symphonically with the exquisitely sinful squelching sounds of her sex wrapped around his cock. 

Harry bit his lip and tried to hold on, but, as his eyes fluttered shut and he gripped her hips tightly, his mind supplied him with an image all its own: White blonde hair and pale, pale skin illuminated in gold, purple, orange and crimson hues from so many sunsets ago, as if still scorched onto his lids. The thought sent him flying over the edge and he threw his head back and cried out as he came, hard. 

Ginny lingered there, atop him, gazing down at him with searching eyes as he fought for his breathing to even out. 

"You know I'll always love you, right, Harry?"

He just stared back at her with furrowed brow. A beat passed until she climbed off and kissed him, once more, before she slipped on her dressing gown and made to start her day. 

He sighed. He'd figured out long ago that _that_ was how she said _"I'm_ _sorry"_. 

* * *

"Ok, team!" Harry clapped his hands together as he walked purposefully to the head of Meeting Room A accompanied by an onslaught of wolf-whistles from the roomful of Aurors.

"My-my. Is it just me or is his head already getting bigger?" Stevens, a spry, brunette witch from his training class chided playfully.

"Nah, that's impossible, Stevens! It's already troll sized!" said Reynolds, a tall, stocky blonde wizard who was built like a tank. He clapped Harry on the back as he passed. "What's on the agenda today, _Boss_?"

" _Speech! Speech!_ " someone called out from the back.

"Please, don't," Savage said bluntly, not taking his bespectacled eyes off of his report.

Harry smirked as he perched himself on a desk at the front of the room.

"Don't worry, Savage, I'll spare us all and keep this short and sweet. Firstly, I just want to say thank you -- to _all_ of you. I know this is a big change for us all but if there's ever a team of people I'd want to take this ride with then they're standing right here in this room." 

He looked around at the loyal faces spread out throughout the dingy conference room. He really counted himself lucky to have such a good crew. He and most of the team had worked well together throughout the years and, out of the 30 or so of them, there were only a few people that he'd never really gotten along with (like that jealous prick Jensen whose beady, possum-like eyes were currently glaring daggers in his direction). 

"I appreciate the trust required to be willing to follow someone and I want to do everything in my power to make sure that I earn that trust and don't let you down once I've gained it. Now, enough of the sappy stuff!" He bit back his amusement and shook his head before going for it: "Let's kick butt and take names!"

There were laughs scattered throughout the room and Stevens, who used to partner up with Ron on occasion, rolled her eyes at the obvious Ronism.

"So where are we on finding out what in the bloody hell is going on in West Country?" he asked.

"Well, we've got multiple accounts coming out of Devon, Cornwall, and Dorset of women in their late 50s and older coming down with an illness similar to spattergroit. These women have no known connections or contacts with each other and their loved ones haven't been afflicted. The only common thread we can seem to find is that they each complained that they started to feel sick while they were playing the new Celestina Warbeck record on their gramophones." Proudfoot surmised.

"Uh-oh, Proudfoot, you'd better be careful." Jensen sneered and then yelped as he was hit with a carefully aimed hex.

Harry fought to hide his smirk when he looked back to see the grey haired, regal looking witch appearing as unruffled and composed as ever though he caught glimpse of her wand slipping back into her sleeve.

"Meanwhile, I've talked to the healers at St. Mungos and it's no strain of spattergroit or dragon pox they've ever seen," Savage chimed in.

"Potion or curse?" Harry asked while making a mental note to make sure he warned his mother-in-law.

"Well the curse breakers have already examined both the records and gramophones of two of the victims and didn't find anything," continued the sharp, grey haired wizard. "We've got the lab rats searching for potion residue now."

"Proudfoot, any idea where the women purchased the records?"

"All from illegitimate street merchants who no one has been able to trace."

"So the black market... Ok everyone, now would be the time to reach out to your CIs and let them know to be on the lookout for any movement of Celestina Warbeck records! Time to catch this guy before anyone else gets hurt -- or worse..." he added soberly to murmurs of agreement as people gathered their things and prepared to disperse for the day to track down leads and wrap up existing cases.

"Stevens, can I see you for a minute? Gains, Philips -- good job on breaking up that illegal kneazle breeding ring." The rookies, still sporting bandages wrapped around their faces, smiled and nodded ruefully as they headed out.

"Yes, Harry?" Stevens asked when the room was nearly empty.

He nodded for her to follow him to his office two doors down.

"Audrey, we have a sensitive matter that I need you on," he said as he closed the door. She straightened up, listening raptly. "Marietta Poles, the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Transportation is being blackmailed over an affair she'd been having."

Her jaw dropped indignantly. " _Really?_ That dowdy old bat?!"

"Apparently it started off with demands for money and then escalated to threats to her safety. Can you meet with her and find out who might have a motive -- other than her husband?"

"I'm on it, Harry." She saluted and headed out of the door.

Harry shook his head. He had been truly baffled when the woman had cornered him outside the entrance first thing this morning and begged him to investigate the situation with discretion. It was a bizarre start to his first day but, hey, at least he could say it wasn't boring and, for that, he was grateful.

He had been worried that he might be restless sitting behind the desk instead of out in the field but piecing together possible leads for the Warbeck case and managing individual things that came up for his Aurors had left him too busy to even dwell on it. It wasn't until half past one when Anavi knocked on the open door of his office that he realized he'd been going nonstop for five hours.

"Deputy Head Granger-Weasley for you, sir," Anavi announced.

"Thanks, Anavi -- send her in, please," he said, distractedly scratching his nose with his quill.

She nodded but paused on her way out. "Oh, and sir? I booked your next eight meetings and managed to make you and your wife a reservation at La Sirène for Sunday."

"Huh?" He blinked back at her dumbly.

"For your anniversary," she said matter-of-factly.

" _Oh_! Erhm... Thanks, Anavi." He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly and she smiled as she exited and Hermione entered.

His mouth dropped open and stomach growled in appreciation when he saw that she was carrying takeout.

"Pad thai?" He looked up at her, hopefully.

"Pad thai." She smirked.

"You're amazing, Hermione!"

One of the best parts of Hermione getting promoted to Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement last year (ok, besides putting her on track to become Minister for Magic one day) was that they got to catch lunch a lot more frequently now that they were on the same floor.

" _La Sirène?_ " she asked, incredulously, as she took the seat across from him. "I've been trying to get Ron to get us a reservation there for ages! Apparently, there's a six week wait just to get a seat at the bar!"

"Oh," he said with a slight frown that had little to do with some poncy restaurant.

"How's the first official day as Head Auror going?" she asked as she made room on the desk and laid out pad thai, fried rice, eggrolls, and whatever proposition she was working on today.

"So far so good," he said as he reached for an eggroll. "You know I get to lead the new trainees through their first simulation next hour?"

"Aww, Harry! What a full-circle moment!"

"Yep, I wonder how many of them are going to get stuck in there this year?" he said, gleefully, and Hermione clucked her disappointment. "C'mon, Hermione! It's a right of passage that at least three get stuck. That prick Jensen was in there for 3 days during his first training week." He chuckled. They were always alright -- for the most part. He nodded at her work. "How's the fight against pureblood laws going?"

"Slowly." She frowned down at her report. She looked back up and bit her lip as if contemplating something.

"Oh, no -- I know that look. What is it, Hermione?"

"Nothing! Really, Harry, it's nothing," she added when he looked sceptical. "It's just... I was thinking... What if I were to reach out to Malfoy for help?"

He put down his chopsticks and slowly chewed his mouthful of pad thai, green eyes considering his friend closely. Draco Malfoy was murky territory that he'd been avoiding for nearly 6 years.

"I'm just thinking, divorcing his wife was a big rejection of pureblood tradition. That coupled with all of his quiet philanthropy and such... I wonder if he'd be open to actually helping change some of the laws now or at least in helping me better understand the traditions so I know where to start."

He shrugged. 

"Maybe. Why are you asking _me_?" he asked, somewhat defensively.

A faint blush touched her cheeks. "I don't know, Harry. I just get the sense that whatever happened between you two all those years ago was bigger than you let on and I wouldn't want to create a bridge if it would make you uncomfortable."

He sighed. He knew his friends couldn't be daft enough to believe him whenever he said that _"It was nothing!"_ where Draco was concerned, but, he had just... never wanted to talk about it. 

As it were, it had only taken _one_ damned day of working in the field together as young cadets for he and Draco's whole lives to be flipped upside down. They had stupidly chosen to date in the week and a half before Draco's arranged marriage, knowing full well that it couldn't continue after. But then, Draco had given him a choice:

_"Harry... What would you like to do?"_

_"What would I like? Draco, what are my options?"_

_"Well, the way I see it, we really only have two: We say our goodbyes tonight... or I give it all up and we can be together."_

Knowing what was at stake, Harry had chosen the path that would not end with the man that he loved also losing his family.

They had agreed to let it go after that. There was going to be a traditional pureblood soul bonding ceremony which meant that there would be nothing left _to_ hold on to after that. Simple.

Draco had quit Auror training and moved away to the states which made it easier for Harry to pretend that his already bruised and battered heart hadn't finally shattered into pieces and to gradually move on with his life.

Ever since then, Harry had learned to wrap his feelings up around that particular heartbreak in a neat little ball and throw them somewhere in the recesses of a deep, dark, mental cupboard. His former mind healer didn't approve much of that plan at the time, insisting that it wasn't healthy to repress feelings like that. There might've been something to that because he hadn't been able to do wandless magic from then on out. It was all just too painful to think about and so, instead, he had done what he always did: turned to work. And Ginny was there...

Ironically, it was the day after he'd proposed to Ginny that he found out that Draco must not have taken the soul bond after all as word of his pending divorce from Astoria finally made it across the pond. It was unfortunate timing, really, because he knew that it was the start of Ginny questioning whether or not Harry was really in this with her. And it certainly didn't help that his determination to avoid those emotional fires, even when they were threatening to consume him, had translated to his marriage. He wasn't as blind to the gaping holes there as he pretended to be but he avoided his feelings like a basilisk's gaze. He supposed he should feel angry at the blonde prat for not telling him about the soul bond, but he mostly tried not to feel anything when it came to Malfoy.

"Hermione, I haven't seen or spoken to Malfoy in almost 6 years. Do as you please."


	4. Complicated

**Tuesday, 16th January, Melbourne Australia**

"Ok -- A long black for me, mate, and a mochachino with _extra_ mocha for you, ay." The beguiling, Australian businessman sat the drinks before an immaculately dressed and manicured man whose long, blonde, braided ponytail snaked around the curve of his neck and past his collarbone. 

Draco Malfoy didn't lift his eyes from his newspaper as he nodded his thanks. 

"Why do you even still get that rag, mate? You've hardly even been to England in half a decade."

Draco finally put down the _Daily Prophet_ and glared at his associate.

"Which is precisely why I get it. Even if it _is_ mostly just a crock of bullshite, there are still kernels of truth every now and again," he said, haughtily straightening his grey waistcoat and adjusting the caped travelers cloak draped over his shoulders.

"Sure, mate. I'm sure that's why." Sebastian's blue eyes crinkled at the edges knowingly. The man was only in his mid-thirties though his brown hair and beard were already peppered with silver, making him look distinguished and -- by all accounts -- quite fit. Fit or not, Draco didn't much care for his smug smile as he reached out and flipped the periodical back over to the page Draco'd been reading with the headline: _"Harry Potter Coronated as New Top Cop."_

" _What_ are you insinuating?" Draco huffed as he snatched the paper back and folded it carefully, making sure not to bend the little photo of a nervous looking Harry Potter bowing to accept his inaugural medal. 

"Not a thing, mate!" Sebastian raised his hands in surrender but his smirk didn't disappear as he sipped his coffee. 

Not for the first time was Draco regretting his drunken conversations with the man. He was usually pretty tight lipped but, somehow, conversation always went back to Harry Potter when he was pissed. He supposed it felt ok because, as an Australian-born wizard, Sebastian had no real idea who _The Boy Who Lived_ even was. 

Draco looked out over the wharf from where they sat on the patio of a posh little cafe. It was a nice, Australian summer day and they'd chosen to meet to discuss a possible new merger. 

Sebastian Krafft was in the booming Australian broom business and Draco's favorite investor. He was from new money and a little rough around the edges having grown up on a sheep station in Thundelarra or something of the sorts. People from humble beginnings didn't always make it in the cutthroat world of wizarding finance and investment but Draco could appreciate how the man's positively Slytherin-esque charm and good looks had gotten him far.

He was a persistent bugger, but Draco didn't mind. He made good company in a foreign land and he was slowly wearing down his guards. What had started as monthly meetings somehow turned into weekly lunches then nights out on the town with friends. 

For Draco, most of his transactions in this work were very cut and dry, which he usually liked, quite honestly -- but there was something endearing about how personable Sebastian was that made their relationship evolve into a friendship of sorts. It certainly helped that the bloke was also bent and had been able to help Draco find community through his work with the Oceana Wizarding Pride Alliance. Draco had come to appreciate the freedom of queer spaces in New York and had been nervous about rebuilding a sense of community in Australia. Fortunately, Sebastian had been all too willing to act as his guide for all things queer in the Land Down Under. It was pretty obvious that he'd like to show him a _lot_ more than that but, despite Pansy's constant insistence that he just needed a shag, Draco had been hesitant to cross _that_ line.

"Cheers, I think that's for you, mate."

Draco looked up to see him pointing at a tawny owl headed their way. He could just make out the British Ministry of Magic emblem wrapped around its neck. He quickly relieved the owl of its letter and was surprised when he saw the signature on the parchment. He read through the short message twice with narrowed eyes.

"Huh." Granger had some bollocks on her, he thought.

"What is it, mate?"

"I'm just trying to decide how big of a fuck you I'm willing to send my parents," he contemplated before reaching into his bag and pulling out a quill to scribble back his response. Sebastian twisted up his mouth wryly but didn't pry, probably tired of hearing him bitch about his parents by now. Draco had barely finished attaching the letter and giving the owl a piece of his buttered scone before another one landed as the first departed.

"Well, someone's mighty popular today." Sebastian quipped.

Draco rolled his eyes and removed the parchment bearing the gold foil letterhead of Z&M International.

_Book the next portkey over!_ **_ ASAP _ ** _! Can you get here by Sunday?_

_Opportunity of a lifetime! This is NOT a drill!!!_

_~Blaise_

Draco responded with a simple: _"Bugger off, Blaise"_ and frowned when the owl took the rest of his delicious scone before taking off. 

"I don't know why he even tries. He knows I hate going home," he said as he sipped his mostly chocolate beverage. 

"Is it because you're dodging _this_ bloke?" Sebastian nodded towards the folded newspaper.

Draco's mouth dropped open indignantly. 

"Well, of course not! I am doing no such thing..." He crossed his arms and huffed. "Harry's married and I am being respectful. That's all..."

"Cods wallop! Like an arsehole like you gives two shits about something as inconsequential as someone else's marriage if it gets in the way of you getting what you want." Sebastian laughed heartily and Draco frowned back at him. "And didn't you say that your best mate banged his wife?!"

A fact he rather wished he didn't know.

"As much as I wish that you'd let me help you forget all about the bastard..." Draco stiffened when a strong hand found its way onto his knee and slowly moved up his thigh. Then suddenly it was gone. "It's clear as day that you're still hung up on the bloke after all this time. Why not go back and get your fella?"

"That's ridiculous... It's..." Draco fidgeted with one of the dragon cufflinks on his sleeve, pulling away swiftly when the tiny, sterling silver traitor made to nip at his finger. "It's... complicated."

Sebastian was right, he didn't much give a damn about girl Weasley though he didn't think Harry's strong, if somewhat moronic, Gryffindor morals would ever let him step out on his marriage. Draco would be lying if he said that he didn't think about portkeying directly to England when he'd found out that Harry was getting married. The fact that he didn't was all the evidence he needed that he was too far gone because the usually conniving, self-serving Slytherin hadn't been able to shake the thought that it just wouldn't be fair to show up and complicate Harry's life like that again.

At first, Draco had assumed that marrying into the pureblood (albeit very loosely so) Weasley family meant that Harry would be subject to the traditional soul bonding vows and that thought had served as even further motivation to stay away and let Harry enjoy his life.

Well, it became pretty evident that the Potters hadn't done the bonding ceremony the moment Blaise let him know (against his downright insistence to be kept in the dark about all things Potter, mind you) about whatever guilty antics he'd gotten up to with the redheaded Mrs. Potter.

From what Draco could tell, friendly owl correspondences turned into flirting which turned into meet ups and hang outs and, eventually, the ultimate break in boundaries. To Weaselette's credit -- which he was only willing to give her a modicum -- her Gryffindor sized guilt had led her to distance herself from his friend for a while but, Blaise's recent increase in mentioning the woman's name and all the (unwanted) updates on the Potter's marriage troubles told him all he needed to know about where they currently sat on their slippery slope.

Draco felt so torn in the situation. His deepest concern was for Harry, of course. He knew he was bound to be hurt in all of it but was it his place, as the bloke who'd hurt him and likely led to him being in the situation in the first place, to break it to him? And as much as he wanted to shout his friend down and call out that she devil, he knew it was complicated.

Draco had, in fact, tried to confront his friend on one of his rare visits home three years ago after Blaise's _friendship_ with Ginny had first started to become... dubitable. The London storm had matched the mood and Draco didn't think he would ever forget the torment on his usually stalwart friend's face.

_"But, Draco, I love her!"_ he'd cried, strangled voice and tears mingled with rain and claps of thunder.

Draco sighed. He knew that Blaise and Ginny's story had started at the same time as he and Harry's. The exact same week, in fact. At the time, he hadn't even considered that what the red head and his smoldering friend shared was more than a desperate, convenient shag. Now he routinely wondered how things would have been different had 21-year-old him not been so afraid of what he might lose when there had been so much to gain. Maybe then there would have been two more _genuinely_ happy unions in the world instead of four lost and broken souls pretending to be happy so as not break the facade and possibly make the heartbreak worse for each other.

He instinctively reached for the chain that he kept hidden beneath his collar but his hand dropped abruptly when he realize the direction of his thoughts. He shook his head.

There was an intricate balance in place and _that_ was why Draco avoided Harry. What was he supposed to say if he ever came face to face with the man who'd been the sole focus of his thoughts (good or bad) since he was 11? _"I know it's been almost five and a half years that I left you to marry a woman, but I still love you dearly and it's alright because I'm pretty sure your wife loves Blaise and if not, she's at least buggered him on at least one occasion sooo... sorry about that but we're good, right?"_ Were these normal 26-year-old problems?

He grimaced as he looked back up at Sebastian. "Yeah. It's complicated."

* * *

**Friday, 19th January,** **Melbourne Australia**

Draco apparated to his penthouse home on Friday night, glad to put a long day of meetings behind him and get a pint of something strong in front of him.

He let his cloak drop to the floor and waved his wand with one hand while he loosened his tie with the other. The muggle CD player with the surround sound speakers that he'd invested in began to play a familiar tune and he swayed his hips as he made his way to his bedroom.

_"You will give intooo meee!"_ he hummed as he changed out of his three piece suit and searched his closet for something to wear for a night out. Long fingers skimmed over a beaded, shocking-pink bustier top and tulle tutu from last year's Sydney Mardi Gras and he smiled at the memory. The Oceana Wizarding Pride Alliance had invited him to join their float and it had been a wondrous extravaganza, to be sure. Needless to say, _their_ float was the only one to have _actual_ fairies.

Just as he was deciding to go with something with a _little_ less flare (but maybe still sparkly), he heard the roar of his fireplace from his sitting room.

"Draco! I know you're there! Draco?!"

He sighed then threw on a robe and followed the sound of the annoyed, panicked voice.

"What could _possibly_ be so urgent that you would dare delay happy hour?" he asked as he plopped down on the sofa in the middle of a room with double height ceilings and a panoramic view of the city.

"Draco, why have you been ignoring my owls?" Blaise glared at him (which is really quite the feat when your head is spinning in a hearth).

"How about you tell me why you'd request something so ridiculous? You _know_ there's nothing you can say to make me come home." Draco laid back, kicked up his feet, and summoned the bottle of French wine that Pansy had just sent him from Paris. 

"Wanna bet?" The man smiled devilishly, which was never a good sign. Draco cursed himself as he sat up, intrigued.

Blaise examined his nails nonchalantly in the green flames for added affect as he began his story.

"So I was at your boyfriend's inauguration this past Sunday--"

Draco stiffened. 

"Oh, just hear me out on this one," he purred.

Draco shot him a warning glare but listened.

"I happened to be sat next to your family's old friend, Minister Oblansk." Draco didn't much know the man but he remembered him being at his wedding. "Well, as you know, Bulgaria is set to host next year's cup and, after some elegant persuading on my part..."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Get on with it, Blaise."

"Oh, come now! You're no fun!" He pretended to pout until he was no longer able to contain his excitement and said in a rush: "The Bulgarian Minister for Magic is interested in having Z&M International be the underwriters to fund the Quidditch World Cup!"

Draco sat up straight, pupils going wide as his mind whirred. 

"You're kidding!"

The quidditch world cup was guaranteed to be the biggest event of the year for the entire, global wizarding world which meant, if they played their cards right: guaranteed money, investors, dividends...

"Now would I kid about something so deliciously rich?" Blaise flashed his pearly whites. "Draco, I don't have to tell you that this could catapult us to the next level. But I need you! You know my Bulgarian is shite and he only even agreed to hear me out because I threw in your name. He practically fangirled about you being in _Witch Weekly_." He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

Draco contemplated this. "I can meet him in Bulgaria. I'm not going home."

"Come now, don't be ridiculous, Draco. I've already had Alexandra book you a portkey that will get you here by Sunday afternoon our time and, for added insurance, I've already reached out to your parents to let them know that you'll be visiting and just how excited you are to see them." He smirked smugly.

Draco's jaw dropped, indignantly, and he fixed the twirling head with wide-eyes. "You _didn't_!"

"I _did,_ " he sung, sweetly. "Now, unless you want this to be added to the pile of ways you've managed to let them down, then I suggest you pack your shite. And, next time, _answer my fucking owls_! See you on Sunday!" He smiled before ending the firecall.

That sneaky bastard!

Draco choked out an incredulous laugh as he processed what had just happened. The worst part was that the prick's underhanded checkmate was just devious enough that he couldn't help but respect it. He sighed and waved his wand to start packing.


	5. Baggage

**Sunday, 21st January**

Harry bestowed soft, sweet, teasing kisses to swollen lips. He sucked gently on the delicate skin there and smirked triumphantly when he heard the sleepy, needy little moan he'd been waiting for. His tongue slipped inside, plundering deeper as if in desperate search of the sweet nectar at the center of that warm, wet, source of heat. Ginny opened up further and her hands made their way to his hair as she rocked against him, silently begging him for more.

Harry knew his wife. He had diligently learned her ins and outs long ago.

He adjusted his position between her thighs so that he could insert two fingers. She clenched around him eagerly and, when he hooked his fingers and found the little bundle of nerves there, she cried out. He kissed and sucked on her budding clit and she gripped harder.

"Yes! Please, Harry, please!" she begged.

He smirked and blew on her clit gently to make her groan in need before he obliged. He began to move his fingers in and out, in earnest, making sure to hit that little spot every time as he continued to suck and lick greedily.

Ginny arched her back and her muscles tensed around him as she screamed out into the ether. He quickly pulled out his slicked fingers and rubbed her clit vigorously as he watched her leak, legs shaking around his shoulders as she rode out her orgasm.

"Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed groggily as she pulled down her nightie, still half waking out of her sleep. "What was _that_ for? Is today my birthday?"

It probably wasn't a great sign that they _hadn't_ done _that_ since Ginny's birthday in August. He smiled ruefully.

"Nope, anniversary." He dipped down again to kiss the gooey spot between her thighs and she yelped and giggled, too sensitive still from having come. He simply licked his lips and rubbed his glistening beard. "Happy anniversary."

"Oh! Should I..."

"Nope!" he cut her off, preemptively, when she glanced towards his bulge. He really didn't feel like it -- not mentally, at least. "Today is all about you. I've got your breakfast sitting under a warming stasis charm, I had Neville help me to finally clear the garden and plant those sunflowers you've been dreaming of, I took off of work and told Anavi to hold all my owls -- barring a level 3 emergency or higher, of course -- so that we can do whatever you like, and we've got reservations for some fancy schmanchy place called _La Sirène_ at 6."

Her eyebrows threatened to disappear into the fringe of red locks still wild and frizzy from morning bedhead. She smiled back wanly and he thought he saw a faint twinge of guilt. 

"Wow, Harry... I don't know what to say..." The smile settled more assuredly on her freckled face. "Happy anniversary!"

* * *

_"That's the death eater kid, innit?"_

Draco directed a little bow toward his welcome committee but resisted the urge to dish out a mighty two finger salute as he exited his portkey port.

Draco had done plenty in his time away to make several names for himself in the places he'd worked and traveled internationally: philanthropist, socialite, financial genius... he'd even managed to make _Witch Weekly's_ "25 Under 25!" list last year (along with a certain green-eyed, raven haired person that he was trying _not_ to think about). Yet and still, no amount of accolades was ever enough to escape the fact that he was little more than a reformed teenage death eater and disappointing son whenever he returned home to Not-So-Merry-Old-England.

"Are you here for business or pleasure, sir?"

Draco scowled at the pimply W-TSA wizard poking and prodding at his bag with his wand.

It used to be that you could avoid all the fanfare and simply shoot out a quick owl to the Department of Magical Transportation and get authorization for a portkey to the destination of your choosing. The problem was that there was nothing preventing a whole flock of people sharing a portkey when only one had registered for the thing. It wasn't much of an issue for a family going from Wales to Scotland but, after 911, most governing wizarding bodies started to enforce stricter measures around international travel. The Ministry of Magic created a customs department out of Heathrow specifically for witches and wizards traveling outside of the UK. It operated similarly to Platform 9¾, the arrivals and departure terminal out of sight from muggles, of course, but it wasn't uncommon for the muggles in Terminal 5 to wonder at the eccentrically dressed men and women who sometimes traveled with strange pets.

"Business, unfortunately," he huffed and shoved a pair of muggle name brand sunnies onto his face. There was too much sun shining through the terminal for it to have been 9pm Australian time mere seconds ago. He sighed. The portkey lag was going to be a bitch and he was already dreading stepping out into the dead of a London winter.

"As a reminder, no beasts classified as XXXX or higher are permitted barring pre-approved permit X5NS. Anything to declare, sir?"

"Only that I fucking _hate_ Blaise Zabini," he said as he gathered his searched bag and left the poor boy gawking bemusedly in his wake.

It didn't take long to get through customs but, by the time he'd navigated the muggle crowds standing around those big metal turning things where rolling luggage appeared and then braved the never-ending queues for the rows of floo connected fireplaces and the designated apparition points, he only had a handful of hours left before his meeting was slated with Minister Oblansk and he was dying to get off of his feet and drown in a warm cup of tea. So when it was finally his turn and he stepped onto the apparition point, he thought about the place where the warmest welcome awaited him as he spun on the spot.

"DRACO!!!!!"

Draco barely had time to brace himself as his little cousin Teddy ran across the snowy front lawn and barreled into him, full force. He laughed as he caught the boy whose electric blue hair was slowly turning a white blonde, as it always did when he first saw Draco, and Teddy wrapped his arms tightly around his middle.

"GRAM! Did you see?!" he yelled back towards the house as Andromenda stepped out onto the porch, smirk firmly in place. "Draco's here!"

"Yes, dear, he certainly is. Hello, nephew," she said, crossing her arms and smiling wryly.

The grin forming on his lips turned into something wide and warm as she welcomed him in.

* * *

"Draco, did you know you could get _Doxy Po_ x from kissing girls?"

"I'm sorry, _what_?" Draco fought back his amused grin at the nearly 9-year-old scrunching his nose up in disgust. "Who told you that?"

"Bill did! Vic tried to kiss me and he told me I better stay away or else I'll get a bad case of doxy pox!" he regaled, energetically, already in full story-telling mode.

"Ah," Draco said, exchanging a wry look with Andromeda. "Well I for one wouldn't know much about that one, Teddy, I've always preferred to kiss blokes," he said, casually, before sipping his tea.

"Whaat??" Teddy's miniature jaw dropped, incredulously. "Boys can kiss boys??"

"Sure they can," Andromeda chimed in. "Sometimes, when you like someone in a _reeeally_ special way, you want to kiss them. Like... When we see Bill and Fleur or Ron and Hermione kiss." Draco noted that she didn't include Harry and Ginevra in her example of model couples in love. "It doesn't really matter what gender the person is so long as that really special feeling is there."

Teddy chewed on that for a moment longer, brows furrowed in deep thought and then he shrugged.

"The thought to kiss a bloke has just never even popped into my mind! But that's cool, Draco. I bet it's easier for you because you and your boyfriends like to play with all the same toys and play the same make-believe games," he rationalized and Draco chuckled. Andromeda coughed into her cup. "Vic always wants to play girly stuff I don't want to play! I think about kissing Vic, you know... If I wouldn't get Doxy Pox, that is!" He added in a rush, scratching at his arm sheepishly and the blush creeping adorably to his cheeks.

Draco looked frantically to Andromeda, imploring her to help him out. Having anything resembling _"The Talk"_ with an 8-year-old was decidedly _NOT_ on his agenda. Andromeda rolled her eyes at him.

"Teddy, you know who knows a lot about Doxy Pox and how to avoid it? Your Godfather. I think you should ask him _all_ about it when we see him next."

"Ok!" he agreed, excitedly, and skipped off to go play.

It always amazed Draco how sincere and accepting kids could be.

"So, have you seen your parents yet?"

He shook his head as he savored his darjeeling (the Aussies might know a thing or two about coffee but the Brits sure knew how to make the best cup of tea).

"I'll go visit tomorrow. I'm still not quite sure of the point." His brow furrowed as he stared down at his cup. "Pansy swears that they complain to her folks all the time that I don't visit them enough but, when I do, mother barely looks at me and father gripes the whole time about what a disappointment I am."

"Ah, bollocks." Andromeda waved a hand dismissively. "Sounds like they still love ya, hun. They're just still holding out hope that you'll go back to conforming to whatever it is they want but, to hell with that!"

He smiled wanly. Andromeda had played a big part in him coming out and eventually going through with the divorce from Astoria.

He and Stori had been doing a well-enough job at coexisting in their New York condo. He'd been working a lot with MACUSA and she had found purpose in volunteering at a shelter for magical beasts. They encouraged each other as they faced the challenges of culture shock and finding their own way, and, it didn't hurt that they could out-snark each other -- which made for fun banter. In all, they made the best of roommates. As lovers, though...

Let's just say that Astoria was not pleased to find out that he'd fudged their sacred soul bonding vows on their wedding day and that Draco was about as sexually attracted to her as a three-legged goat. They tried to make the whole heir thing happen for their parents' sake but each attempt required copious amounts of alcohol, a certain Janet Jackson song, and a lot of imagination on Draco's part of a pair of green eyes and the ghost of a whispered _"Draco, I love you"_ from what now felt like a dream.

They really would have probably pushed through it all had the unthinkable not happened.

They had only been in New York for a little over two months when the towers were struck. He had been in a financial advising meeting at MACUSA when the building shook all the way up to the 73rd floor where he was sat around a conference table. They had looked on, solemnly at what was, at first, believed to be an unfortunate tragic accident as muggle (or no-maj, as they say in the States) first responders rushed to the scene before their very eyes. It wasn't until the second crash happened too, too, too soon after the first that the conference room full of well-to-do business witches and wizards turned to each other with horror in their eyes -- some terrified, some galvanized, and some, like Drace, a fair mixture of both. And they began to disapparate. Some apparated away from the danger and some apparated towards it.

It had taken years for Draco to stop waking up in the middle of the night shouting: _"JUST GRAB AS MANY AS YOU CAN WITHOUT SPLINCHING! WE'LL OBLIVIATE LATER!!!"_

Draco walked away from that tragic day with gratitude for his Auror training kicking in when he needed it, deep sadness for the lives they could not save, and a new found appreciation for his own life.

His parents had nearly lost it. They worried half to death and desperately tried to get him to come home and stay there. But when the dust settled and he finally made it back to the UK a week later, it wasn't to their home that he went first.

_"I ca-a-an't do it!"_ he had shook, wracked with sobs and his head in his (probably thoroughly bewildered) Aunt's lap. They had only started to form any relationship at all the week before he'd left for the states and he hadn't talked to the woman since. But when it hit him that life was far too precious to live the lie that his parents insisted that he live and he had to face the very real likelihood that he might lose them _when_ he stopped pretending, she was the only person he could think of to turn to, the only one who could understand.

And she had been there for him every step of the way, since.

As for his parents... Well, Draco guessed he could count himself lucky that after the prospect of losing their son for the _second_ time in three years, they weren't apt to cut him off completely, at the time. Instead, they seemed to be under the assumption that if they made him feel bad enough for being a bad son, then he'd eventually go back to being their pride and joy. 

They used different tactics, of course: Narcissa used the silent treatment as part of her masterful art of guilt tripping and Lucius just went for straight up shaming. Ironically enough, it was the day that his father called him a _poof_ \-- the one thing that he had feared since that faithful day when he was 11 and it finally clicked for him that he wasn't like all the other boys at his fancy, new boarding school -- that he finally felt free. He almost thought he saw a glimpse of fear in his father's eyes when he had responded to the slur by laughing hysterically.

He couldn't blame him, really. He had almost thought _himself_ mad because he could not help but laugh and laugh and laugh until he was doubled over, belly aching, tears streaming. When he was finally able to pull himself together, he faced his father head on and said: _"Yes, father, I think I'm going to be the pooffiest from now on. But I'll still love you. Both of you."_ He had turned to his mother who'd looked away with tears in her eyes. _"Even if it is hard for you to understand."_

And it had been hard, for all of them. While Narcissa still gave him the cold shoulder years later, she had started sending him hand-knit (not magic knit, mind you) scarves and hats and blankets on his birthdays and Draco had heard from multiple accounts that his father was overheard bragging about him when he'd made _Witch Weekly_. He really wished they would just get mind healers already and figure it out! It required a lot more patience than he thought most Slytherins were blessed with to love people who couldn't quite figure out if they wanted to love you or hate you. And that's what Andromeda had taught him: To love them through the bullshite but keep his own boundaries and most of all, to live his fucking life!

That part was hard, too, still, but only because...

"So how _are_ all the boyfriends going?"

_Merlin!_ The woman always knew just where to prod!

He kept his gaze on the dining room table and tapped his fingers rhythmically as the moment stretched on between them.

"You've got to move on, Draco."

"I know."

* * *

Harry huffed, making the lock of hair that refused to stay put in his bun float an inch or so before flopping right back down into his eye.

"Gin, are you ready yet?" he called from his position draped over the downstairs sofa.

For the most part, the Potter's fourth anniversary had gone as planned. After ages of operating as ships passing in the night, he had expected spending a whole day together to be somewhat of an awkward experience. He was surprised, however, by the ease of which they'd slipped into conversation.

Harry's work was off limits because it always seemed to make Ginny feel neglected and _feelings,_ in general, were a slippery slope neither of them dared traverse but, they settled nicely into the topics that were within their "comfort zone." Quidditch was always a safe bet and he enjoyed hearing all of her inside scoops on the behind the scenes drama. Ginny hadn't really been involved much with the Hedwig Foundation because of her training schedule but she looked both proud and amused as he regaled her with the goings ons of his kids and the mystery of how Peter Piper the Pygmy Puff wound up tangled up in little Oliver's mother's wig. And, of course, family was an endless well to drink from when it came to finding things to gossip about. 

By the time they needed to get dressed for dinner, Harry knew that Molly and Arthur were out of town visiting Aunt Muriel for the week; Charlie was coming into town next week and, supposedly, bringing his new boyfriend; George was super proud of little Fred and Roxie's latest stunt, Angelina... not so much; apparently, it was a big deal that Vicky had a crush on Teddy who now ran every time he saw her after Bill _conveniently_ let slip that boys could get _"Doxy Pox"_ or some other made up bollocks from girl kisses (Harry _really_ needed to talk to Teddy and he was already dreading it); and surprisingly, Ron and Hermione were seriously considering having another baby. Like, planning stages, trying-and-seeing-already stages of consideration.

Harry loved kids and prided himself on the title of "Best Uncle Ever." Needless to say, he was thrilled by the idea of his best mates having another little one for him to shower with love but... Pregnancies were still such a sore subject for he and Ginny...

They both felt the mood turn somber.

Ginny was the one who broke the silence first.

"This is nice, Harry. A small break from our usual gloom and business."

He nodded his agreement. 

"Remember the years after the war?" she said, almost longingly.

Harry quirked a brow in her direction. "Yes... We were a mess..."

"Maybe. Merlin, we were just babies, Harry! And learning so much about ourselves and the world! We were truly best friends then." She shook her head as she reminisced. "I sort of miss those days. Or-- at the very least all the muggle pub food we used to eat." She laughed and then sunk down into the cushions of the sofa and closed her eyes and smacked her lips as if she were remembering something tasty. "I still dream about that one pub we went to with the cheesy chicken nachos."

He'd looked at her curiously but smirked.

"Are you saying that you want to skip the fancy smanchy place that's going to cost me an arm and a leg? To get cheesy chicken nachos, instead? Because I'm alright with that."

She scoffed.

"Oh, no -- there's no turning down _La Sirène,_ " she said in a fake, haughty voice as she'd stood to go get dressed.

Ginny finally descended the stairs an hour and a half later wearing a sparkling emerald green dress that put his jeans and navy blue button-up to shame.

"You look beautiful!" he said, holding out an arm for her. She blushed as she grabbed ahold of his bicep and they disapparated.

They landed (slightly wobbly since Harry _still_ was not a graceful apparator) right in front of the famed La Sirène. It was the type of new-agey place with torches filled with cool blue and purple flames outside and live music drifting out from inside that spoke of a promising night.

"Today, has been lovely, Gin," he said as he led her inside and they waited for the hostess. "I have a good feeling about tonight."

No sooner than the words had left his mouth did a thick, Bulgarian accent catch his attention. He turned to find Minister Oblansk and two, bulking, dignitaries heading their way towards the exist.

"Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Potter! It's so nice to have you dining with us today. Right this way, please," the hostess rattled off when she'd finally returned.

Harry had had every intention of following her except, at that very moment, the bulkiest of the dignitaries passed and Harry froze. There, right in front of him, stood the perfect, pristine, beautifully angelic visage of a man who he had all but convinced himself had only ever been a ghost.

Harry's eyes followed an intricately braided, blonde, fishtail down the curve of an elegant neck to its pulse point and back up to where the loveliest shade of pink bloomed on delicate, pale cheeks and rosy lips parted _just so_ with a sharp intake of air.

_"Draco..."_ he breathed as naturally as if the name belonged on the tip of his every exhale.

And then there was a forceful tug on his arm and he was being pulled across the dining room as Ginny made to follow the cheery hostess and take their seats. He didn't even dare to look back.


	6. Confidential

**Sunday, 21st January, 2007**

Harry nervously tapped his fingers against the black tablecloth that covered the posh little high-top table they were sat at. Ginny continued to gaze, unseeingly, at the purple flame floating in the lamp next to his head as the silence stretched on. 

Harry sighed. They had been seated for nearly fifteen minutes and she had not said a single word. Not even when the chef personally came out to greet them and _(loudly)_ wish them a happy anniversary (Harry made a mental note to thank Anavi, she really _was_ good) or when their overly eager waiter, Benjamin, kept popping by to ask if he could get them anything anytime there was a shift of the menu or their wine glasses decreased by more than two sips.

"Just say _something_ , Gin," he pleaded, at last. 

Ginny finally fixed him with troubled blue eyes and she started to speak before she chickened out and returned her gaze to the flame. 

"You love him," she said at last, nodding decisively, as if convincing herself more than him. 

"Gin..."

"No, Harry. In ten years, I have never _once_ seen you look at me the way you just looked at that man." She shook her head and rocked back and forth as if she was steeling herself for something. Harry looked around them warily, praying that they weren't garnering attention. He thought he knew what was coming -- the very thing that he had been hoping a good day might prevent -- and the _last_ thing he needed was to wind up in _The Prophet_ tomorrow morning. 

"Ginny, that's not true. I love you!" he reassured. 

She shook her head. "That may be true, but not as much as him. And all this time, I've wondered... But I knew..." She shook her head again and Harry felt the blood drain from his face as he saw her make up her mind. 

Just then, the straggly young waiter reappeared.

"Your main course will be out in just a couple of moments Mr. and Mrs. Potter, is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you, Benjamin. You've been great." Ginny smiled politely and he bowed his head before hastily walking away. 

When she returned her gaze to Harry, there was a steely resolve there that made his hairs stand on end. She reached for her purse and he instinctively shook his head. 

"Ginny, no. Not today." 

Of course he knew she had been visiting with solicitors. He was fucking _Head Auror --_ he knew what was going on within his own household, including all the bullshite he bloody well wished he didn't. But... not today. 

"Harry, we have _got_ to stop pretending. And from what I've just seen --"

He raised his hand to cut her off, his panic now turning into pure fury. 

"Don't you fucking _dare_ pretend that this has anything to do with Malfoy! Ginny, can you seriously look me in the eyes and tell me that you think I don't _know?_ " he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting to keep his voice even. Her eyes went wide and fearful as green bore into blue. 

"Surely you've figured out by now why sex requires so many mental backflips on my end now that I could probably medal in the muggle Olympics? Or that I hardly ever initiate because I refuse to feel like your _fucking_ _cuck_!" He was seething. But then he felt his eyes burn, bitterly. "Or why, when you lost the baby, I didn't know whether to rip my own heart out and bury it or just feel relieved to not have to guess." 

Harry hadn't even had warning enough to duck before the flat of her hand struck stingingly across his face. He stretched his jaw and rubbed his cheek in response. Harry looked around warily when he thought he saw a bright flash. 

"Don't you ever fucking dare question whether or not that was our son," her voice cracked. 

"Well, forgive me if I had reason to doubt. Ginny, we need to leave. Now," he said, looking around at all the eyes now on them. 

"Oh, your poor, precious reputation," she scoffed before sipping her wine. "If you thought you knew so much, why didn't you say anything?! Ask me why I did it or fight for us?! Anything would have been better than just ignoring me for years! What's even your point in staying together if that's the case?"

He sighed. He had long ago worked out that Ginny and Blaise had a... _thing_. He had been so angry. So furious and so hurt. But when he thought about confronting her, he realized that he had so much more on the line than their marriage. He finally had a family. A good family. A big family. Who he loved with all his heart. But the fact of the matter was: they were _her_ family. He couldn't lose them. And, when it came down to it, it _meant_ something that Ginny wasn't leaving him. If having pretentious arse Blaise Zabini on the side was what it took for someone to not fucking leave him, for once, then so be it. 

"Ginny, I have plenty of pathetic reasons why I don't want to lose you. Even if I _did_ love Draco, I didn't choose to be with Draco -- and I could have!" he added the clarification. _He_ needed that part more than she did but he pressed on. "I chose to be with you!" He said, growing more desperate. 

"But that's just it, Harry!" She looked pained. "I don't think I ever wanted you to..."

He felt as though his heart had been pierced and slashed with ice. His eyes burned and he shook his head frantically. His very worst fear confirmed: he wasn't lovable. Nearly everyone in his life couldn't possibly have left him, if he was. Of course she had never wanted him.

He felt her calming hand on his from across the table. 

"Harry, listen to me. I love you. I have loved you with my whole heart since I was 10-years-old and I always will. Don't you ever doubt that. But I love Blaise Zabini just like you love Malfoy." She hung her head. "We reconnected a few years ago and... We resisted! Really, Harry we've tried! In all these years, we've only ever crossed the line that you're thinking of once and... Harry, I just felt so guilty! I'm so sorry! We stopped, Harry, I swear we stopped! But... it's the emotional bit that we still haven't figured out how not to give in to and I can't help but feel just as guilty."

She sounded tormented but he couldn't pick his eyes up from their spot on the table to look at her. 

"You remember the week we started, Harry? Blaise and I? The same week as you and Malfoy. And the crazy part is, Blaise says that he doesn't even think he would have entertained the thought of giving it a go if Malfoy hadn't told him about what happened the day before we hooked up, when you two worked that case together -- kind of a _if you could snog his best mate then you couldn't be too mad about who I shagged,_ sort of thing."

The irony. Harry thought about butterflies, for some reason.

"I didn't want to love him, Harry. I just wanted something simple. Something different and exciting. But it was so much more than that."

He scoffed. 

"No, it was. But when you and Malfoy ended... Oh, it's my fault, really, Harry -- I did something so stupid..."

He looked up to see her bite her lip. 

"I thought of you as that fragile boy from right after the war who needed me." Her voice broke again but she pulled it together, glancing around the room and remembering they had an audience. "I didn't think you'd be ok without me and so I ended things with Blaise and came to be with you. But I found out soon enough that I was wrong. You were... different... after Malfoy. Sure, you were hurt but you were stronger, somehow! You could've been ok! You could've healed! You probably could've sought him out and tried again right after he divorced that thieving arse girl! But, by then, things were so complicated for both of us..."

He shook his head. It was too much to process...

She looked at him ruefully. "Harry, I'm so sorry. But I can't keep making decisions solely because I don't want to hurt you. That's why we're here right now and that's my fault for treating you like you can't take it when you haven't been that confused, broken boy from after the war in years."

She pulled out the divorce papers from her purse and slid them across the table before gathering her things. In that moment, Harry thought that she had it wrong because he felt precisely like that confused, broken boy from after the war. He bowed his head in defeat. 

She paused before she made to leave the table and looked at him sadly. "It's going to be ok, Harry. Really, it is. I love you and hope maybe one day we'll be able to be real friends, again, like before, but you deserve better. And we both deserve better than the mess we've made of this." She attempted to place her hand back on his but he recoiled this time. "I'm going to stay with Luna for a while, maybe you should go to Ron and Hermione's for support. And... Harry... I know you've been afraid to let yourself feel much of anything at all these days, but if there is anyone who can make you feel anything close to whatever I saw there when you looked at Malfoy, then I think you owe it to yourself to embrace that."

He continued to stare at his folded hands, despondently. There was a pause and then he heard the click of her heels walking away. 

* * *

**Monday, 22nd January, 2007**

"Ok, where are we with the Warbeck case?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his coffee and thinking he could really use something stronger. He frowned at the thought and tried to focus. 

"We've had three more victims and, unfortunately, this week it came with a fatality." Savage said solemnly. "Little witch in Dorset. Gram of eight."

Harry bowed his head and the others followed suit in a moment of silence. 

"Please tell me we've got some leads," he beseeched, looking around the room only to be met with disappointed faces. 

"All we know is that it's definitely a potion -- the lab confirmed. But still no leads on a common distributer."

Harry slammed his fist on the table making several of his team jump. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and paced in place. He could not fail at this. Not right now when he so badly needed a win. 

"Harry..." Stevens said hesitantly. "Don't worry, we will get this punk."

He took a deep breath, realizing that they weren't used to seeing him like that and that two weeks in was not the time to lose it. 

"Of course we will. Now please get the bloody hell out of my sight, the lot of you, and go chase down some goddamn leads! Proudfoot, I want everything you've got on the latest 3 victims on my desk in the next hour," he commanded and his crew began to disperse, grumbling their theories about who pissed in this coffee that morning. He closed his eyes and removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, Stevens was still there. 

"What is it, Audrey?"

"Update on the DMT blackmail case. Strangest thing... Marietta Poles, our victim, reached out today insisting we drop the case." She screwed up her face in confusion. 

Well _that_ was a drastic turn around. 

"Did she say _why_?" Was the obvious question. 

Stevens shook her head and her lips set in a grim line. "Last week she was terrified and struggling to come up with a list of suspects and today she just calmly told me that it was ok to close the case because she hadn't heard anything since and preferred not to have all the fuss..."

"Sounds like someone has either gotten to her or she finally gave them whatever they were looking for..." he mused. "Back off just enough to make them think you're complying but keep an eye on her -- especially for signs that she might be imperiused. Something fishy's going on. Good work, Stevens."

She nodded and marched off. 

He sighed, already bemoaning the thought of going back to his office with no leads and plenty of time to sit with his thoughts. Just then, there was a knock on the open meeting room door and Anavi popped her head in. 

"Good morning, sir. I hope you enjoyed your dinner last night," she smiled. 

He simply nodded and returned a terse smile. 

"What is it, Anavi?"

"An owl just came in from your favorite confidential informant asking to meet," she said, holding up a piece of parchment. "Should I pass it along to one of the Aurors or --"

"Nope! I'll take it!" He lit up, reaching out to take the note from her hand. Any other day he might've been more apt to follow protocol and assign someone else to follow-up, but he knew his CI was more likely to talk if he did it himself and they _needed_ to crack this case! "Thank you!"

He hurried towards the lifts feeling far too grateful for something to do. 

"Harry!"

He heard Hermione's voice and picked up the pace. He was sure she had spoken to Ginny by now and he did _not_ want to go there. 

"Sorry, Hermione! Gotta go chase down a lead!" he said, aggressively pressing the down button for the lifts. He silently thanked Merlin when one arrived and the doors began to close just as Hermione reached him with her _'We need to talk'_ look. 

* * *

"Well, I'll be. To what do I owe this honor?"

Harry grinned as he stepped out of the floo and into a familiar, still grimey but slightly more friendly bar. 

"Aberforth, my old friend! How's business?" he asked the miserly old innkeep.

"Well, it's fine whenever all those brats aren't overrunning the place on their Hogsmead visits. I miss the days when the ambiance of the place scared them off but ever since the battle, I can't get rid of 'em," he griped but Harry had a feeling he was secretly proud. "Fancy a firewhiskey?"

Harry contemplated it but willed himself to stay focused. 

"Sorry, old friend, I'm actually here on business," he said, peering around the bar at the plethora of disreputable looking patrons until his eyes finally landed on the shadiest of the bunch: a man in a corner both whose face was wrapped in bandages like a mummy (or a Stepford wife after a go at plastic surgery).

He walked over and leaned casually against the booth. 

"Dung?"

"Wotcher, Harry!" Mundungus Fletcher smiled through the bandaging and Harry beamed back as he took the seat opposite him. 

"What do ya got for me, Dung?" he asked hopefully.

"Firstly, let it be known that I acquired this bit of information at great personal risk to miself. I think it only fair that I raise the price of mi regular commission for this one." 

Harry watched his eyes glint greedily through the slits and then rolled his own. He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small pouch that jangled when he shook it. Mundungus' grubby fingers reached for it but he pulled it just out of reach.

"Nuh-uh-uh." He shook his head. "You tell me what I want to hear, first."

"Yeah, yeah, alrigh'. So this Celestina Warbeck fiasco -- apparen'ly the records are being laced with a potion with a..." He looked up and to the side as if trying hard to remember the exact words to recite. "Somethin' about an 'undetectable amount of bulbadox juice and boomslang' and alls you need is a li'l bit of bezoar and bubotuber pus to stabilize the old ninnis."

Harry screwed up his face indignantly. 

" _What_?! Dung, that's oddly specific... where did you get that from?" He raised a sceptical brow. 

"You know I can' tell you that, Harry." He shook his head. 

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to tamp down his rising anger. 

"Mundungus, whoever told you that might be behind all of this! While it's nice to know how to treat it, I need to know how to stop it altogether! I need to know who's behind it and how and where it's being distributed!"

"Sorry, Harry, that's all I got."

Harry smiled wryly. "Alright, then. No name, no galleons."

He watched as Dung's eyes widened as he waved the little pouch in front of his eyes. 

"Alrigh'! Alrigh'! I don' have a name! -- I swear!" he added when Harry looked doubtful. "All I know is it was a bloke with a funny accent. Was with a lady with a different funny accent. Met 'im at a bar in Yorkshire. We got to talking about the unfortunate events -- knew I'd been asking around after you put the call out, see -- an' he told me I needed to tell somebody."

Harry was shaking with frustration. So he didn't even know this person. Just a rumored cure for potion ingredients that not a single lab test detected from a phantom bloke which -- who knows, could actually make the symptoms worse.

He threw the pouch of gold galleons across the table in frustration and left without another word. 

* * *

Harry returned to an eerily empty Grimmauld Place late that night. He hadn't noticed it much the night before because he'd, blessedly, downed their last bottle of _Dreamless Sleep_ the moment he'd got home from that shiteshow of a dinner. But tonight...

He headed to the drawing room and sat by the fire. The room looked nothing like the dark, dreary, Doxy filled place that it had once been. When they first decided to try to make the miserable old house a real home, they had spent day and night remodeling for months until they had something they could call their own. This room screamed of Ginny with its bright white walls and yellow curtains and accents that always made it feel like there was sunshine, even on the gloomy days. The thought stabbed at his heart. 

He eyed the bar cabinet in the corner ruefully and shook his head. Harry had promised himself years ago that he wouldn't let alcohol be his escape again. After the war, it had taken almost losing everything, _twice_ , and three years of muggle support groups (because there was no way he was going to let the wizarding world know) until he'd gotten a handle on it. He'd finally gotten to a point where he felt comfortable drinking socially again with a strict "one drink" rule and it was never at home but, right now, he really wanted to drink the neck and shoulders off of a bottle of Ogden's. 

There was a time he'd go and see his mind healer in moments like this but he had stopped going to see her long ago when he realized she was the only one really keeping him accountable for being real with himself and his feelings and he just didn't want to at the time. He knew it had been cowardly to stop, but talking through heartache over a man he shouldn't love and talking about feelings of betrayal surrounding a woman he had no plans to leave just felt... pointless. 

He could go to Ron and Hermione's, of course, but then he would _have_ to talk about it... Andromeda would probably curse him to Hades if he flooed in and woke Teddy at this hour. 

He had the briefest, fleeting, ridiculous thought that maybe he could do what Ginny had suggested and reach out to Draco...

_What good would that do? He's moved on! Why on earth would you think he would still want you after all this time?_

He swallowed hard and said a sorrowful prayer as he stood and crossed the room.


	7. Missing

**Tuesday, 23rd January**

Harry felt like death when he awoke: his body was stiff against the hard floor beneath him, his mouth felt like carpet, and his head pounded against his skull relentlessly. The empty bottle of alcohol lie next to him, mockingly. 

"Shite! What time is it?" He asked, casting a quick tempus and scrambling to stand -- a move he would soon regret as he was forced to haul it to the nearest bathroom and _just_ made it to the sink before he retched.

He groaned at his reflection in the mirror -- he looked like death, too. The bloodshot eyes staring back at him didn't belong there and neither did the stench of stale booze oozing from his pores.

He slid to the floor and cried out, anguished.

" _FILTH!"_

"No!" he croaked, meekly.

_"SCUM!"_

_"_ No, no, no, no, no, no!"

_"UNDESERVING MONGREL! HOW DARE YOU DISGRACE THE HOUSE OF MY ANCESTORS?!"_

"THIS WON'T BE MY LIFE!" he yelled, angrily, pushing himself up the wall and marching wobbly, yet determined, off to the hall where Walburga Black's portrait still hung. 

After all of the renovations, Harry and Ginny had been dismayed to find that no amount of magic had been able to rid the vile woman from the wall. 

" _Accio sledgehammer!"_ he said as the ancient witch continued to spout out hate at the top of her lungs. 

A moment later, a large sledgehammer came smashing through the window, sending glass flying everywhere. Harry belatedly hoped that Bob, his muggle neighbor, wouldn't miss it and silently prayed that his garage door had been open. Oh well -- there was always _reparo_.

Harry gripped the wood base firmly with both hands and let the sadness, hurt, betrayal, and _rage_ that had been building up for at least 5 years -- but maybe a lifetime -- flow through him as he swung and he swung and he swung until the portrait was no more and the brick wall on which she had been displayed now lay crumbled at his feet. 

He exhaled cathartically and couldn't help but laugh when he looked around at the mess he'd made. 

* * *

After rummaging through Ginny's medicine cabinet and, mercifully, finding a vial of hangover potion, Harry was feeling exponentially better. He still had an hour to fully pull himself together before work so he was in the kitchen, hoodie drawn over his head, cozily, and nursing a very strong cup of tea when a tapping noise caught his attention. 

He turned to find a screech owl perched outside the kitchen window and hurried to let it in. 

"Why, hello there," he said, stroking its soft plumage with his knuckle. He carefully untied its note and it hooted happily as he tossed it an owl treat. 

Harry thought nothing of it as he unfolded the parchment and saw handwriting he'd never seen before -- that was hardly unusual. But as he read, his heart stopped:

**_If you would like to see your wife returned home safely, then do as you're told. We want the Wand. Simply respond with its location via the return owl. When we have it in hand, we will release her._ **

**_If you do not comply, we CAN make your life -- and hers -- a living hell. No investigations, no one else involved, no tricks, no funny business. Just a location and we won't harm a hair on her pretty, red head._ **

**_The clock is ticking, Mr. Potter._ **

The hairs stood on the back of his neck as the words registered and realization hit: He hadn't heard a peep from Ginny since their row. 

He turned slowly towards the owl who was now watching him, keenly.

He felt the vague beginnings of panic start to bubble up but then he squelched it. If Ginny were really in some sort of mortal peril then the whole Weasley clan would be up in arms by now thanks to Molly's clock.

Right. It had to be a cruel joke or scam of some sort and he could floo over to Luna's right now and prove it. 

Harry forced himself not to run, trying hard to keep a cool head. _She was fine, afterall._ He shakily threw the green powder into the hearth and kneeled as the flames roared green. He stuck his head into the cool flames and called for Luna's place. 

Seconds later, he was peering out into the quirky loft filled with random artifacts that Luna and Rolf had accumulated in their search for mythological creatures.

"Oh, hello, Harry! So lovely to see you! Today is gulping plimpies day so I thought I might see an unexpected friend," she smiled.

"Luna! Listen, is Ginny there?" he asked in a rush. 

"Oh no, Ginny isn't here. Should she be here?" she asked, a thoughtful look on her face.

He frowned. It was too early for her to have headed off for practice already. 

"Did she make it back to your place from work yesterday?" he asked, trying to piece together a timeline.

"No, silly. I think her back from work place is probably at _your_ home. Are you sure she isn't there?"

Harry's stomach dropped. "Luna, when was the last time you've seen Ginny?"

"Not since last week. We were meant to get lunch yesterday but she must've forgotten. I suppose she's having a rough week." Her expression saddened. "I know she's had a lot on her mind."

Harry swallowed dryly then abruptly pulled his head out of the fire, not even bothering to end the call. 

"Oh, goodbye, Harry!" he heard her call after him dreamingly.

He summoned robes, shoes, and a quill mid dash as he ran back to the little owl, heart beating out of his chest.

He had no bloody clue what the ransom note was even on about. He'd confiscated hundreds of wands over the years during arrests but would someone really resort to kidnapping to get their wand back? He hadn't seen anyone act _that_ crazy over a wand since --

_Shite._

He needed time and he needed backup.

He scribbled back a response that he hoped would seem like he wanted to comply while buying time.

**_I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean... Did I confiscate your wand? If so, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt Ginny. If you tell me your name, I can check for it._ **

_"Geminio!"_ he chanted, pointing his wand at the note and watching it shake momentarily as it doubled, creating a perfect duplicate. 

He tied the replica with his response to the owl and disapparated as soon as it'd cleared the window.

* * *

"So you're telling me you hadn't seen your wife in a day and a half and you didn't find that suspicious?" Jensen screwed up his face, doubtfully.

"I told you, already -- we'd had a row and she said she was staying with a friend."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling more and more frustrated as he desperately tried to explain the situation to the aurors and a distressed Hermione who he'd pulled from her office, posthaste, to join them in the bullpen.

"And what are they even on about? Wand? Who would do all of this for a confiscated _wand_?" Reynolds asked, incredulously.

Harry looked to Hermione. She and Ron were the only ones who could possibly understand. Harry had made up his mind before he'd even left his kitchen that morning that he could not let the Elder wand wind up in the hands of anyone dangerous enough to resort to kidnapping and extortion to obtain it. But should he let his team know? The entire purpose of burying it nearly ten years ago was so that no one would know its whereabouts or be tempted by its existence. Hermione made a minute little shake of her head from left to right.

"I don't know," he lied.

At that moment, Ron, dressed in full, magenta Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes robes (that, ironically, clashed horribly with red hair) came marching furiously down the aisle toward them.

"Look, can someone see if the lab can find _anything_ on that letter -- prints, magical signature, anything we can possibly trace." Reynolds nodded and made haste. "And try to get a timeline on when and where she might've disappeared from. Jensen, find out if she showed up to work on Monday, check in with your eyes and ears around Holyhead to see if they noticed anything suspicious. Stevens, she usually floos to work so check with DMT to see if there was any unusual activity from her regular floo points -- Percy Weasley is the Department Head, he'll know where to check..." Harry directed, bemoaning the thought of Percy having to find out this way but they needed to act _NOW_! He nodded for Hermione and Ron to join him in his office.

Harry hadn't even made it to his desk before the panes of the large windows that looked out onto the bullpen shook as Ron slammed the door behind him. Ron angrily waved his wand to shutter the blinds (surely to the dismay of the still lingering onlookers) and it was barely a moment later before his best mate had crossed the length of the room and grabbed him roughly by the front of his robes.

"Ronald, no!" Hermione screeched and tried to come between them.

"Ron, wait --"

"Why in the _bloody fuck_ didn't you tell us you guys were getting a divorce?"

He yelped and let go as Hermione hit him, successfully, with a stinging jinx.

"I thought she told you!" Harry eked out, wide-eyed, before Ron could continue his assault. "Yesterday! When Hermione wanted to talk, I thought it was because Ginny told her!"

Ron paused and looked at Hermione whose lip quivered slightly.

"Oh no, Harry! I was coming to tell you -- Well, we wanted you to be the first to know..."

Harry looked between his two friends in confusion when Ron dropped his fury to smile lovingly at his wife before taking her hand in his.

"Harry, we're pregnant!" She lit up.

Harry felt his heart swell with joy before it was crushed with the reality of the situation.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "I'm so, so stupid."

"Yea, you are, you stupid git!" Ron agreed firmly, scowl returning. "You couldn't even let us know that something was wrong?!"

"Ron... Me and Gin haven't been good in years..." He swallowed thickly. "You know its hard for me to talk about that kind of stuff..."

" _I don't give a flying fuck_ _how hard--_ " Ron stopped himself and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Harry, every time you push people away with the whole _'Woah is me, this is my cross to bare alone'_ act, things always fall to shite! Tell me, how are we supposed to trust you when you could keep something like _that_ a secret?"

Harry hung his head. He had no answer. He hadn't been just a crappy husband but a shitty friend, to boot. 

"My baby sister is missing! _Missing!_ " Ron continued, the anguish in his voice making the building guilt in Harry's gut stir. Ron pulled the chair from in front of Harry's desk and sat down heavily, resting his face in his hands. "I went by the Burrow and checked the clock. It's stuck on _Mortal Peril_."

Harry groaned. "I forgot that Molly and Arthur aren't home."

"Yea." Ron looked up with red eyes and swallowed thickly. "I wonder how long it's been stuck there, you know? And, thank Merlin for that because it means she isn't..."

Harry didn't need him to finish the sentence. They all knew what it meant that Fred's hand on the clock had disappeared.

Harry didn't care what issues they might've had, he couldn't fathom the idea of Ginny being hurt or held hostage somewhere and, the thought of her not coming home to them... He shook his head in resolve.

"I will find her, Ron. I don't care what it takes--" He grit his teeth and fought back the burning tears that threatened to escape. "I promise."

Ron stared intensely into green eyes and nodded once.

* * *

Harry spent the next half-hour working furiously, directing commands and making firecalls. Hermione had stayed by his side, sending out lightning-fast owl posts to anyone who might have some helpful information and letting the rest of the family know what happened. Ron had refused to sit-still and do nothing, instead, insisting on going with Jensen to Holyhead to question Ginny's team. Harry knew he shouldn't have let him go -- he had no idea how long _he_ had before someone caught wind and tried to force _him_ to recuse himself for being too close to this case -- and letting Ginny's non-ministry-official brother sit in on questioning, no doubt, crossed a line but, he couldn't afford not to have the best eyes on this and he didn't trust anyone more than his former partner.

They arrived back at half past nine.

"Please tell me you've got _something_!" Harry shouted as Ron marched urgently into his office. He nodded solemnly and slammed the door in Jensen's face. Harry shrugged at the man mouthing indignantly at him through the window and quickly turned his attention to Ron.

"That prick wasn't even trying! Had to threaten to stick my shoe up his arse twice!" He frowned and then shook his head.

"What'd you find, Ron?" Harry asked as Hermione joined them.

"The girls confirmed that Ginny wasn't at practice on Monday morning. None of them saw her arrive but they did say that they noticed a strange man in the stands."

"Hmm... What was so strange about this particular man?" Hermione asked. "It's not unusual for them to get onlookers..."

Ron shook his head. "No, but it _is_ unusual for the onlookers to leave right as practice actually begins. Why go all the way to Holyhead just to gawk at the players and not even stay for the fun part?"

"Unless he'd come for one particular player and then left when he realized that she wasn't showing..." Harry said, gears turning in his head.

"Bingo. And get this: multiple players saw him receive a patronus message right before he disapparated abruptly."

"So there's someone else involved." Harry swallowed.

"Could they describe this mysterious man?"

"Only that he had a stocky build and wore a hat that covered most of his face. Gwenog did say that the first bludger of the game flew a little too close to the bloke and, when she went to bat it away, he yelled at her in a thick accent..."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Thick accent? Mundungus mentioned someone with a funny accent giving him intel on the Warbeck case... And, I know the Bulgarians are in town..."

"What would the Bulgarians want with Ginny?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

Harry shook his head. "They don't want Ginny, they want ' _the wand'_. If this is really about the Elder Wand, then we know that Grindelwald spent some time in Bulgaria..."

"You think someone from there was able to trace it back to you?" she asked, astonished.

"Mate, you haven't seen that piece of shite in ten years! Why is it even coming up now?"

"Who knows..."

A knock on the door made them jump. Stevens was there, waiting anxiously.

"What is it, Stevens?" he said as he let her in.

"I just came from the Department of Magical Transportation. Percy went back and tracked the floo channels from all of your places to all of her frequented places, and, nothing of use."

Ron groaned.

"But there was one abnormality he couldn't really make sense of..."

"What is it, Stevens?" Harry urged. 

She twisted her mouth wryly. "Well there seems to have been an incomplete floo in the Harpies' locker room on Monday morning."

"What does that even mean?" Ron frowned, incredulously. 

The brunette woman shrugged. "It's showing up as a blip on the system. Percy says he's never seen it before."

"Do you think the floo was tampered with?" Hermione furrowed her brow in thought, worry etched on her face. 

They turned to each other, dejected. They really had no trail.

Just then, Anavi knocked on the door. Harry swallowed thickly when he saw the fretful look on her face. 

"What is it, Anavi?" he asked, cautiously. 

She paled as she held up a letter and a lock of long, red hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's the point of a post day if there's not so much as one mention of Draco in the chapter? I simply can't have that ;-). Thus, you get two chapters today. I'll post the next chapter tonight after I'm done with work :-). Hope you're enjoying!


	8. Suspected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised: a second, chapter for today that actually has Draco somewhere in it :-)

**Tuesday, 23rd January, 2007**

**_Tricky, tricky, Mr. Potter. So, you don't like to follow directions. I said NO Aurors. You'll regret that._ **

**_Well, since you like playing detective games, how about I make this a little more interesting for you lot? It could have all been so simple. Send us the location when you're ready to end this._ **

"What does it say about Ginny?!" Ron demanded to know as Harry read through the note twice.

He shook his head. "Absolutely nothing," he said, handing the note to Ron and Hermione, who scoured over it, and he massaged his temples.

Was Ginny hurt?

"I don--" He stopped short as the sound of blood curdling wails made him whip around towards the entrance of his office.

There, Anavi knelt, writhing and clutching her face in pain as it she burst out in blistering pustules.

"Merlin's beard!" yelled Savage who'd just returned to the office with Proudfoot. A concerned crowd was quickly growing. "It's the same symptoms from the Warbeck case but accelerated!"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other with wide eyes as they quickly dropped the note. Harry jumped into action, rushing to the cupboard in the corner of the room and grabbing the bezoar and bubotuber pus from the first aid kit.

"Here! Suck on this!" he encouraged the woman who looked back at him with wide, terrified eyes. "Do it!"

She obliged and he unstoppered the pus and began dabbing it on her angry welts. Long moments passed before the screams turned to sobs and then eventually softened to whimpers as her skin slowly returned to normal. He sighed in relief, thanking Merlin for Mundungus Fletcher as he straightened up again. He was surprised, however, when he looked around to be met by an onslaught of stunned faces.

Ron and Hermione looked at him questioningly, Proudfoot and Savage wore brows furrowed with concern, Jensen smirked, smugly, and Anavi just looked plain frightened.

"Harry?" There was a nervousness to Stevens' voice. "How'd you know to do that?"

"What? Oh, yea -- that's what my CI told me we needed to do when I went to meet him yesterday." He barked out a laugh in relief that it worked and shook his head. "He said that there was an undetectable amount of bulbadox juice and boomslang in the poison being used on the Celestina Warbeck records. He said he didn't actually know the bloke who told him so I thought it was all bollocks! Thank Merlin it worked!"

There was silence. It was Jensen who spoke first.

"Let me make sure I'm getting this correctly: We get a new, big shot head Auror and along comes a new, big, unsolvable potions case. Funnily enough, he's somehow the only one who knows the secret contents and cure of said potion that could set him up as the media hero only one week in -- and doesn't even mention it." Harry paled as he followed the prat's line of thought. "But then his trophy wife asks for a divorce and conveniently gets _'kidnapped'._ Then -- _oh, this is rich!_ \-- he gets owled a letter, meant for him, laced with the same potion properties from the completely unrelated case when he has the cure right on hand?" He quirked an eyebrow, challengingly.

"You guys can't really think --" Harry's eyes were wide and frantic as he looked for an ally among the crowd but they all looked at him doubtfully. Hermione, at least, mostly just looked scared, but it hurt the most when Ron refused to look him in the eye.

* * *

#  _📰 The Daily Prophet: **BREAKING NEWS EDITION**_

### Tuesday, 23 January, 2007 8:37PM (GMT+1)

### NEWLY APPOINTED HEAD AUROR AND SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD, HARRY POTTER, ARRESTED AS THE PRIME SUSPECT IN WIFE AND HOLYHEAD HARPIES SWEETHEART, GINNY POTTER'S, DISAPPEARANCE! (Rita Skeeter has the inside scoop on their tenuous relationship, pending divorce, and the big fight from earlier this week that sources believe might have made the savior finally snap!)

**What could possibly make long-standing Head Auror Gawain Robards return to the job after only a week and a half of retirement? Well, apparently the answer is to arrest his protégé and successor, _The Chosen One_ , Harry James Potter! (See photo above from arrest, taken at the Ministry of Magic)**

**If you're a follower of my work, then you know that our hero-boy is, by-far, no angel. I've long reported about his descents into madness since the tender age of 14. We all held on to hope that Harry Potter could be the hero we needed after the rise of _You-Know-Who_ , and many of you may have even been fooled after the unlikely foe did, indeed, foil the dreaded Dark Lord. The reality of Harry Potter's dark decline in the years after the famed _Battle of Hogwarts_ have long been kept under wraps, but even those who knew something was wrong would have never thought the man capable of the horrid things he now stands accused of.**

**We've seen Potter and his Hogwarts sweetheart, Ginevra Potter (née Weasley), grace covers of _Witch Weekly_ for years as the most idyllic couple but my sources reveal that they were actually off and on for most of their relationship -- the ups and downs apparently being related to Harry's senseless use of hard muggle drugs and many homosexual extramarital activities.**

**The two prevailed just long enough to make it to their fourth marriage anniversary on Sunday where patrons of La Sirène witnessed an emotional row (See page two for the moment Ginevra slaps Harry!) in which Harry accused her of cheating and terminating a pregnancy after getting knocked up by another man! Ginny then provided him with divorce papers on the spot!**

**Here's the kicker: No one has seen Ginevra since the incident!**

**What happened between then and now is a mystery. What we do know is that it wasn't until Potter staggered into the Ministry of Magic this morning, two days too late and wreaking of booze, that he reported her missing. He claimed to have received a ransom note and threats that would insinuate that the suspect was the same as the Warbeck Murderer but, when Ministry officials searched the Potters' home, they found the home in disarray with one wall bashed and crumbled as if an intense wand fight had ensued.**

**To make matters worse, Harry Potter was seen in the disreputable pub of the Hogshead Inn on Monday morning, the day after the row with his wife at La Sirène. The filthy pub, infamous for shady and scrupulous dealings, set the backdrop as Harry met with known career criminal and mongrel, Mundungus Fletcher, who was described as heavily disguised. Harry was seen angrily tossing the man a bag of money but the question remains: What was the money for? To off his wife, perhaps?**

**Potter now sits in lockup, awaiting a Wizengamot trial set to take place this Friday.**

**"It's really quite pathetic," said one ministry employee who wished to remain unnamed. "He keeps begging to be let out to 'Go find Ginny' like we don't already know wherever he'd find her is probably the ditch he buried her in."**

**We are all left to wonder: Will Potter's fame help him avoid justice? Is Ginny Potter (would've soon been Weasley again) alive?**

**Obviously, there is lots more to follow as this story develops so be on the lookout for further breaking inside scoops from me, your favorite journalist, Rita Skeeter.**

###  _~Rita Skeeter_

**Wednesday, 24th January, Melbourne**

Draco looked out stoically, long plaited hair and dressing gown blowing gently in the morning breeze as twilight set in over his view of the Melbourne skyline. He leaned over the glass balustrade of the rooftop terrace, hot tea nestled in his hands, as he reflected on the past 72 hours.

His unexpected business trip back home to England had been, by all accounts, a success. He'd managed to save Blaise's arse and potentially position Z&M International as _thee_ trusted global wizarding investment banking firm. Blaise was already ecstatically thinking about the next stage of their expansion and fantasizing about becoming the wizarding Barclay's when he left, but something wasn't sitting right with Draco and he couldn't put his finger on it...

His visit with his parents had gone, well... as expected, mostly. No big breakthroughs but still no one had gotten hit with a curse which was... fine. 

But then there was Potter... Despite all of his mental preparations to proactively avoid running into the man at all costs (including running through a list of all of his long forgotten evasive Auror maneuvers, _just_ in case), he still wasn't prepared when, as was his luck, Harry Potter walked into the dining room where they'd sat for their meeting with the Bulgarians with his wife, Ginevra, in tow.

_"Draco?"_

Draco's heart clutched now as he remembered the awe and warmth that carried the barely whispered name to his ears. _It was still there._

"Oh, there you are, Draco."

He started from his thoughts as the handsome, shirtless Aussie sauntered towards him.

"For months I've been trying to take you to bed, now I finally get you there and you scurry away first chance you get?" Sebastian smirked and encased Draco in strong, muscular arms.

Draco shrugged out of the embrace and rolled his eyes but smiled back, wryly.

"Sebastian, please don't make me regret mixing business with pleasure," he warned with a pointed brow. "I just needed a distraction."

Andromeda had been right: He needed to move on. No matter how much the brief interaction might've convinced Draco that the flame was still there for Harry, too, the fact of the matter was that the man was married and already had a full life built without him. _He needed to move on._

He had arrived back to Melbourne late last night only to find his favorite Australian investor in a _very_ generous mood. And as far as distractions went, he _was_ a pretty scrumptious one...

He sipped from his tea as he took in the sight of the fit, smooth talking wizard now leaning casually against the railing and beguiling him with a dazzling dimpled smile. 

"Well, I'm happy to be your distraction _any_ time," he teased, seductively.

Draco was just debating whether or not he wanted to temp the fates with a round two when an owl approached from the east carrying the latest issue of _The Daily Prophet_. What an odd time of day for _The Prophet,_ he thought. With the nine hour time difference, he usually got the paper much later. 

"Wait, let me just get some owl treats then you can distract me all you want," he said, suggestively, as he quickly relieved the owl of her post and turned to head back inside for treats. He stopped short, however, when he glanced down and caught sight of the moving picture on the front page.

The mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground.

"Draco? Draco, what is it?!"

Draco filled with dread as he looked down into somber green eyes as picture Harry was marched away by Robards, himself, his hands magically bound behind his back. He paled, panic-stricken as he read the headline.

"Crikey! Isn't that that hero bloke? Your former boyfriend partner?"

"Technically, no..." he said, snapping out of his daze, mind finally galvanizing and his eyes searching madly through the article. "This doesn't make sense..."

"Well, sometimes people can surprise you, mate." Sebastian shrugged. "Come on, put that down and let's go inside. You've had a shock, let's get you some more tea -- I know how you Brits like tea."

Draco frowned. He got that his friend was trying to help, but Sebastian didn't know Harry! He couldn't begin to comprehend how much the man had sacrificed, how much he was still willing to give... How much the world had taken from him... How much more he deserved! And the thought of Harry James Potter, the man that, damnit, he still _loved_ with all of his heart! -- taking the fall for something so heinous was just... just...

He felt the magic building in his core and the patio furniture began to quake. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice even as he talked.

"Thank you for a lovely night, Sebastian. How about we connect in two weeks for our meeting with Benson? We've got mergers and acquisitions to discuss," he said, curtly.

The man twisted his lips wryly. He looked miffed but he eventually nodded and summoned his shirt and robes before disapparating without another word.

Draco exhaled an audible breath and then pulled up a seat at the nearest patio table.

He buried his nose in _The Prophet_ , continuing to scour the paper for something, _anything_ that might make this make sense!

He paused when he noticed the date of the alleged argument which was supposedly the last time that Ginny was seen.

Oh _... Oh!_

He stood abruptly, not caring when the chair was sent toppling backwards. He trotted back into the penthouse apartment and skidded to a halt in front of the large fireplace in his sitting room, heedlessly grabbing a handful of the green powder and flinging it into the fire. He plopped down in front of the hearth as soon as the flames turned green.

"Alexandra? Alexandra!" he called out.

A pretty brunette woman with ice blue eyes nearly jumped out of her seat, startled.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir --" she said, composing herself behind her desk.

"Alexandra, is Blaise at the London office?" he asked, frantically.

"No, sir. He's still in New Zealand for the rest of the week. Is there a problem?"

_Shite._ He raked his fingers through his hair.

"Alex, I need you to listen to me very carefully," he stressed and she nodded, wide-eyed and surprised by his fervor. "Book me the soonest possible direct portkey to London. I don't care about the time or the price, I just need it _today_."

"Today, sir? A same day portkey is going to be --"

He rolled his eyes. If she thought that was too much then she really wasn't going to like the next ask.

" _Then--_ " he interrupted, "I need you to get me on the calendar for a meeting at the Ministry of Magic for tomorrow afternoon."

" _What?!_ Draco, have you gone mad?!" she asked, nonplussed and completely losing all pretense of professionalism. "I'm not a miracle worker, you know?!"

"Well can you be one, just this once?" he smiled, imploringly. Alexandra had been a godsend to he and Blaise in her 4 years as their secretary. "Come on, Alex. I've seen you work with less in bigger time crunches!"

She smirked wryly.

"Alright, give me 15 minutes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that's read Draco Hearts Spice Girls and Harry Potter, you'll see that we've finally reached the point of its epilogue! Hope you're enjoying!


	9. Hope Lost, Hope Gained

**Wednesday, 24th January, 2007**

Harry fidgeted impatiently while he wait, his legs bouncing up in down with frenzied energy. The room he'd been locked in was empty except for the lone table and chair at which he was sat and four floating candelabra in each corner of the dimly lit space.

The irony, he thought, that he would be left waiting and desperate for information in the very same interrogation room that he'd questioned countless suspects in, himself.

These dungeon rooms were designed to rob you of all sense of time but Harry guessed that it had to have not quite been 24 hours since they'd thrown him in here. He only prayed that they might have developed some _actual_ leads in the meantime.

Just then, the door creaked open heavily and Harry stood as Robards entered the room.

"Do you have any leads?! What do you know?!" he blurted out, impatiently. 

"Sit down, son," Roberts said, firmly. Harry wanted to yell but thought better of it -- there was no way that would help him get out of this room to go find Ginny any sooner, especially not with Robards. He resumed his seat, perched on the edge in anticipation while Roberts conjured up a chair of his own.

"I just need you to help me understand," he continued. "We're having a real hard time understanding just how you went almost two days without noticing that your wife was missing."

"How many times do I have to tell you?! She asked for a divorce on Sunday and said that she wasn't coming home. She was planning to stay at our friend's home!"

"Luna Lovegood?"

"Yes! I didn't find out until yesterday, after I got the ransom note, that she didn't actually go to Luna's. I apparated right over when I found out!" he said, trying to keep his voice even. He was exhausted and he needed to be out there finding her. "Look, you're wasting your time! I didn't do this! I should be helping!"

"Uh-huh," Roberts said, disbelievingly, and, for the first time, it registered for Harry that he was in real shite. "And where _do_ you think she might have been if not at home with you and not with the friend she said she would be with?"

He stared back fiercely at the man who had been his mentor but now held so much disdain in his eyes. He had been trying to protect her secrets but if it helped...

"...She was having an affair with Blaise Zabini. Who knows, she may have stayed with him." He bowed his head.

"Lovegood already related something similar so we followed up on that lead. Blaise Zabini isn't in the country. He had to catch a red-eye portkey to New Zealand for a business trip on Sunday night leaving little time for foul play."

Harry's eyes widened. "Did you check with Percy to see if she might have been with him?!"

Roberts nodded solemnly. "Their records show that Zabini traveled alone."

"Ok..." Harry was getting frustrated. So far, he was hearing a lot of nothing. "Then what leads _do_ you have?!"

Roberts glared at him for a long moment with a look that would have quelled a lesser man.

"I have a cheating wife who asked her husband for a divorce, publicly, on their anniversary night. I have a hot headed, grieving husband. I have a destroyed foyer and signs of a great struggle at Grimmauld Place. I have a husband who disregarded all order of rank and file to meet with and pay a known criminal, only to go on and sully the investigation by, not only working his own wife's case himself, making it possible to cover tracks and hinder progress, but also brought in family and friends to further muddy the investigation. Did I get everything?"

Harry had listened with his eyes and jaw open, indignantly, his heart racing and a deep rage simmering in his very bones. 

"Look, Gawain, I am beyond being angry at Ginny for daring to fall in love with someone else -- _Fuck!_ I've gone ahead and done the exact same thing!" he spat, frustrated. "But, right now, I couldn't give a fuck if she buggered all of Puddlemere United! JUST GET OUT THERE AND FUCKING FIND HER!" He pointed forcefully to the door. 

Robards only shook his head, disbelievingly. 

"Harry, I'm going to ask you this kindly and I need you to answer truthfully before you really piss me off. Where. Is. Ginny Potter?" he asked, slowly, and the goosebumps spread up Harry's arms as the full reality of the situation hit him.

"For Merlin's sake! I'm telling you I didn't--"

Robards slammed his huge fist on the table.

"WHERE IS GINNY POTTER?!"

"I'M TELLING YOU I DON'T KNOW!"

Robards stood, angrily, and didn't spare him a backwards glance as he left the room.

Harry dropped his head to the table. He'd never felt more helpless. Not only was he likely headed to Azkaban right alongside the hundreds of witches and wizards he'd helped send there over the years, but, worse: If everyone truly believed that he was responsible, then no one would be out looking for the real suspects. He _had_ to find a way to save Ginny.

* * *

**Wednesday, 24th January, 2007**

Draco pulled the hood of his cloak up against the London night chill and stuck to the shadows of Elderberry Road as he approached the terraced home. 

The lights were out and there were no signs of movement in or around it but... 

_"Homenum Revelio,"_ he whispered. 

He exhaled a sigh of relief when nothing happened and quickly crossed the threshold of the wards that still hummed contentedly when he crossed them. 

" _Lumos."_

His wand illuminated familiar dark green walls and mahogany floors and he searched, room by room, for any signs of intruder or struggle. When he was confident that the place was clear, he finally turned on the lights and sighed as he sunk unto the rich, leather couch. 

It was 9pm London time which meant he had been up well into the early morning back in Melbourne before Alexandra was finally able to get him a portkey. She'd also proven that she was, in fact, capable of miracles as she'd managed to get him on the calendar to meet with a witch from the Department of International Magical Cooperation at noon tomorrow. What he'd talk about? He had no clue. But he did know that, right now, he needed to get some rest.

Neither he nor Blaise had lived in the London flat for years but they'd held on to it for times when Draco returned (though he usually just preferred to stay with Andromeda) or, for Blaise, whenever he wanted to rendezvous with a certain redhead without fear that the neighbors of his Berkshire estate (who were all very much a part of the wizarding elite) might catch wind. 

Draco rolled his eyes at his stupid friend. He really hoped he wasn't somehow wrapped up in all this but his gut was telling him there might be a connection. Blaise had overshared one too many fantasies about the day that Ginny Potter might finally grow a pair and ask for a divorce... He just could not imagine that she wouldn't have turned to him after what was apparently a shite-show of an anniversary dinner.

Blaise had been unreachable all day and his guess was that he probably hadn't even heard the news yet. He had taken a redeye portkey to New Zealand on Sunday night, shortly after their meeting with the Bulgarians, and wasn't due back until next week. New Zealand didn't have a proper international floo network set up, though, so it wasn't unusual not to hear from him when he visited the place. Draco'd sent him an owl before he left Melbourne but, now that he was in London, it'd probably take forever for his return owl to reach him. But the clock was ticking and he couldn't wait! He needed to know asap and he had a plan to find out. Tomorrow. But for now...

He pulled from his bag a small, crystal vial and quickly downed the purple liquid inside. Soon after, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Thursday, 25th January, 2007**

_"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."_

"Draco Malfoy, investment banker, here for a meeting with the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Draco said in a tone smooth enough to match the cool female voice that filled the red telephone box.

_"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."_

The rest of the melodic voice's speech was drowned out in thought as Draco attached the silver badge that fell from the pay phone's coin slot -- _Draco Malfoy, Investment Banker, IMC Meeting_ \-- and the box began to descend towards the atrium.

Harry was set to have his Wizengamot trial tomorrow afternoon and, as of now, Draco didn't have a leg to stand on in his defense besides: _"He's a good person, really, he is!"_ \-- and, somehow, he highly doubted anyone here would give the word of Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, much weight. Even now, as he walked through the bustling atrium, he still received sneers from the people who still remembered, lest he forget.

"Hawthorn wand, 10 inches, unicorn hair core, been in use 15 years, changed hands twice in that time?" The wizard at the security desk looked up at him questioningly over half-moon glasses as he registered his wand.

"That's correct," he said with a charming smile that only seemed to annoy the gray haired man more than anything but he let him pass, all the same.

Draco was still about 15 minutes early for his meeting with Harriett Last-name-something-or-another which was just fine because he needed to make a very quick, hopefully inconspicuous, pit stop. So, instead of taking the lift straight up to Level 5, he got off when the melodious voice announced: " _Level 6. T_ _he_ _Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Centre._ "

The large floor was split up into sections. Nearest to him was a room where a number of nervous looking teenagers were preparing to take their apparition test. _"Determination, Deliberation, Destination -- Oh! Is that right?!"_ one girl recited with her eyes screwed up a few feet away. In the room to his left stood visible, towering piles of miscellaneous odds and ends like broken umbrellas and solo shoes that he supposed were to become portkeys. Finally, he spotted a little section of cubicles stationed in the center of the floor with a sign overhead that said: _"Floo Network Authority."_

He stayed back when he noticed the panicked, red-headed man with glasses that he vaguely remembered from Hogwarts talking to a kindly grey-haired witch. The witch placed a hand on his shoulder in reassurance and Percy walked off towards his office.

Draco approached the woman whose name plate identified her as Ramona Violeta.

"Excuse me, Ramona -- why, don't _you_ look lovely today!" he flashed her his most endearing smile. She looked up, surprised and then smiled as she took in the charming young man.

"Well, hello there," she beamed. "Can I help you, dear?"

"Why, I think you can, actually." Draco leaned on her cubicle casually. "See, my godson is visiting from Australia for his summer hols and I believe the little rascal has been sneaking off when I'm away at work."

"Teenager?" She gave him a wry, knowing look.

"Yes, teenager." He returned a wry smile. "I was wondering if you could track the floo usage from my residence on Monday morning? I'd just like to make sure that wherever he's been off to is safe, you see?"

She smiled warmly. "Sure, deary. I understand, I've raised three myself! Do you have identification with proof of address?"

He reached inside of his cloak and handed her his ID with the Elderberry address where, for all intents and purposes where the ministry was concerned, was his place of residence.

She scanned her wand over the ID for verification and then waved it through the air. Draco ducked as a file flew across the room and just barely missed his head. She caught it easily and donned a pair of glasses as she flipped through the file until she found what she was looking for.

"Aha! Your floo was used once that day from your flat in London to a stop in Holyhead but... Oh, this is peculiar... it immediately changed course and redirected to a muggle inn in Surrey." She scratched her head.

"A _muggle inn_?" he asked, perplex.

"Yes, it's off-network so I'm not even sure how he managed... It looks like someplace called the _Merry Chandelier_. Maybe he has a muggle girlfriend?"

"Perhaps..." He was deep in thought. "Is there any chance I might get a copy of that?" He implored innocently. When she looked sceptical, he pushed. "His mum will never believe me -- thinks he's a right angel."

She gave him a little smile but hesitated. "Oh, alright! It couldn't hurt," she said as she waved her wand and the document duplicated.

"Thank you so much, Ramona. You've been quite the help!" He nodded as he hurried off towards the lifts.

"Good luck with your godson!" she called after him.

* * *

The Granger-Weasley's were having a rough go of it. Hermione kept going between fits of crying -- that definitely weren't helped by the pregnancy hormones -- and trying to convince her husband that all hope was not lost. She refused to even entertain the thought that Harry could do the things that he was being accused of, though, even she had to admit there were some giant sized holes in the story that she couldn't begin to make sense of.

Ron, on the other hand, had been mostly despondent or angry, not much in between. He didn't know what to believe at this point. He had made the mistake of not trusting Harry twice before and the guilt for each still haunted him. But this was different... This time there really were some big things that Harry had kept him in the dark about -- and, for Merlin knew how long! He had retrieved the clock from The Burrow and taken to carrying it around the house with him like his mum used to do during wartime. His little sister's name still sat, unmoving, at _Mortal Peril_.

Even baby Rose seemed to sense that something was wrong, for she'd been nearly impossible to soothe for most of the day. Both Ron and Hermione had been too upset to go to work for the past two days so, on that particular afternoon, they were taking turns trying to soothe the baby, and then themselves, when there was a knock at the door of their small cottage.

Hermione bounced her fussy baby girl against her hip with what felt like empty promises that _'everything was going to be ok'_ when the most peculiar exchange reached her ears as Ron answered the front door.

_"Oi!_ _What in the bloody hell are_ you _doing here_?! _"_

_"I need to see Granger!"_

Hermione paused her rocking, completely shocked and nonplussed. _It couldn't be..._

_"That's_ Granger-Weasley _, to you! And have you lost your bloody mind?!"_

_"Granger! Granger, are you in there?!"_

Hermione hushed Rose, who started to cry when she placed her safely in her basinet, and went out into the sitting room, wand raised, to see the commotion. Her mouth dropped open when she came upon Draco Malfoy trying to push past an angry, flustered Ron.

"Granger, I will give you everything you need to send every pureblood law to hell in a hand-basket if you can help me get into the ministry without detection!" he shouted around Ron's tall form.

She gasped, wide-eyed.

Ron finally let go of Malfoy and reached for his wand, having decided that Malfoy had, indeed, lost his bloody mind and, thus, given up on trying to reason with a crazy person.

"No need for the theatrics, Weasley! Harry's innocent and I need to get him out if there's any bloody chance of finding your sister and clearing his name!" Draco shouted, frustrated.

Both Ron and Hermione stared at him, nonplussed.

"Now, are you going to let me in or not?"

* * *

_"Hermione, he's full of shite! It's Malfoy! There's no way I'm trusting him!"_

_"Ron, just hear him out! It's all we've got!"_

Draco rolled his eyes but then smiled widely and pulled an exaggerated surprised face as Rose bounced and giggled happily in his lap.

"I can hear you, you know!" he paused his baby play to shout so that his least favorite Gryffindors could hear him in the other room.

Ron marched out angrily, followed by Hermione, and scooped Rose into his arms.

"You little traitor," he accused her but she simply laughed and snuggled against Ron's chest. "Ok, Ferret, we'll listen. But first, why in Merlin's baggiest y-fronts would Ginny be flooing to work from you and Zabini's old flat?!" he said, jabbing his finger into the the floo report Draco had placed on the coffee table.

"She's been having an affair, of sorts, with Blaise for the past three years," he said without pretense.

Hermione gasped and Ron's mouth flapped open and shut like a fish out of water.

"No. There's no way," Ron eventually got out and shook his head vehemently.

"There's lots of ways and, unfortunately, I've heard one too many of them even though I've asked to be spared the details on multiple occasions," he said examining his nails, nonchalantly.

"Ron..." Hermione placed a calming hand on Ron's arm to stop him when he pulled back with the intent to punch the blonde bloke in his face. Draco sat unflinchingly and sipped the tea Hermione had prepared. "What if what he's saying is true?"

"No, Hermione, Ginny wouldn't--"

"Ron, just consider what we know... We know they were getting a divorce and Harry said there were some things he didn't want to talk about... And we both saw how he reacted when we saw Zabini at the inauguration... Is it too much to consider that Ginny might've..."

"But why would Gin do that? Why would she do that to Harry?" he asked, sad and confused. "Oh crap, did Harry know?!"

Draco cocked his head at him. "I don't know, I haven't talked to the bloke in nearly 6 years, but with the _Head Auror_ thing going for him, what do _you_ think?"

There was silence.

Draco sighed.

"None of it really matters right now outside of the proof that Harry could not have done it. Blaise caught a redeye portkey to New Zealand on Sunday night. He must've told her she could stay the night at the flat. This says that she would've left the flat at 10:30am on Monday --"

"Which does line up with her practice schedule..." Ron begrudgingly admitted.

"And Harry was already at work then! Although... I suppose he did rush out around that time to go meet up with Mundungus... I remember wanting to tell him about the pregnancy before my 11am meeting," she contemplated. 

Draco gaped at her.

"What?" She blushed.

He shook his head. "Nothing, mazel tov."

"Thanks," she smiled, sheepishly.

"The real question is, what happened here--" Draco poked his finger at the point on the report that said both Hollyhead in Wales and Surrey in England, both at 10:31am.

"I mean, it does line up with the blip in the system Stevens told us about, Ron... Is it possible she was somehow redirected?"

"Do you know how bloody hard it is to change direction mid-floo!" Ron marveled. "Fred and George did it once when they tried to sneak back home at the exact moment mum passed the fireplace on her way for a midnight nosh. Wound up all the way in Upper Flagley, they did!"

"How charming..." Draco said, dryly. "Yes, it's possible. Or the floo could've been tampered with. Bottom line, even if Harry did manage to leave in enough time to somehow intercept Ginevra's arrival at Holyhead, it wouldn't have given him much time at all to do anything nefarious before casually making it back to the Hogshead." Draco reaffirmed.

"Ron, isn't Surrey where Harry's from?"

"Yea, maybe he knows why she might've flooed there."

"I'll be sure to ask him," Draco said matter-of-factly.

"How?" Ron asked sceptically.

"Well, we've got less than 20 hours until Harry goes before the Wizengamot. After they convict him, the dementors will take him straight to Azkaban and then it will be too late. That means I've got to get to him before then."

"What?!"

"Draco, you seem pretty convinced that they'll convict him but, with this new evidence--"

Draco scoffed.

"Granger, do you really think they are going to give him a fair trial? And now that we know Harry's been made public enemy number one, again, what prevents them from still finding a way to pin this on him? Spin a tale all about how he's in cahoots with a Death Eater?" he spat, bitterly. "I'm not naive enough to pretend that it being tied back to _my_ home is not a liability for Harry when we've already seen what they made of him meeting with his own damn confidential informant!"

Ron and Hermione shared a rueful look.

"He is their _only_ suspect! They aren't looking for anyone else! They've already stopped looking for her, and, a part of me really hates to say it, but Harry Potter is probably the best Auror of our time." He shook his head as they looked at him with stunned, incredulous faces as they processed words they'd never expected to hear out of the Slytherin prince's mouth. "Whoever pulled off such an intricate frame job is a bloody genius and Ginevra doesn't stand a chance without him. And neither does Harry if he doesn't get the chance to clear his name."

Ron crossed his arms and fixed him with narrowed eyes. "Why do you even care, Malfoy?"

Draco felt the heat rising to his ears as blue eyes bore questioningly into grey.

"I mean, you just said yourself that you hadn't seen him in nearly six years and you haven't been an Auror in just as many -- yet you come all the way here from the middle of Timbuktu, procure official ministry documents, and now you're planning to, what? Break Harry out of custody?"

He didn't speak. He just turned to stare straight ahead, putting a scowl carefully in place though the flush had spread to his cheeks.

"Draco... if that's what you're planning on doing -- breaking him out, I mean... You do know that you will inevitably be found out, right? You know that, even if you don't get caught and dragged to Azkaban, you'll potentially have to give up your entire life to go on the run?" Hermione asked, cautiously.

Draco bit his lip and nodded quickly, still staring straight ahead. Of course he knew. He'd had the chance to risk everything for Harry before and he didn't. And, because of it, he hadn't felt truly happy a day since. All the money and fame and shiny new things meant nothing when he had known a love that, even in its brevity, had been everything. His hand instinctively came to rest on the chain around his neck, hidden by his robes. He swallowed. He knew that just because he did any of this didn't mean he'd get Harry back. But that was ok. He could live with that pain. He couldn't live with sitting back and letting _Harry's_ entire life be taken from him.

Weasley cocked his head and looked at him thoughtfully, eyes still narrowed. "Malfoy, what really happened in those two weeks? You know, in that last year of training?"

Draco cursed himself when a single tear escaped his eye, unbidden. He wiped at it furiously with his sleeve.

"Nothing," he bristled. "He was hung like a hippogriff, is all."

Ron and Hermione exchanged shocked looks that he watched turn into twin expressions of dawning comprehension. 

"You really love him, don't you?" Hermione asked and he hated the soft sadness in her voice that meant she actually saw through him. 

He hung his head. There was a long moment of silence.

"Alright, mate. I'm down," Ron said, at last, clapping his hands together eagerly and effectively shifting the mood. "How are we breaking him out of that joint?"

Draco shook his head and stood. " _We_ aren't doing anything. You've too much to lose." He looked pointedly at Rose who had long fallen asleep on Ron's chest. 

The two Gryffindors looked baffled. Draco had had every intention of asking them to break him in and help break Harry out. That's what Gryffindors are for, right? But then he had seen Rose which already made him feel conflicted but, the moment he'd heard about their growing family... He shook his head. 

"I just need a coin to get in through the employee entrance." Hermione gasped. "I can say I stole it if I get caught but if I go in through the visitors' entrance then I'll have to register my wand and I'm going to need to use it without it being immediately tracked down."

She nodded. "And... do you need anything else? To help you blend in?"

He screwed up his face in confusion. He could tell she was trying to hint at something but it was making her look like she was having a fit. He raised a questioning brow and turned towards Ron.

"She's trying to ask if you need any Polyjuice." Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Ronald! Shhh!"

Draco blinked back at them. "But Polyjuice takes a month to brew!"

Ron waved his wand and summoned a flask with a foul smelling, mudlike substance inside. "Not when you've had to use it to save your life in a pinch as many times as we've had. You learn to keep the stuff brewed and on hand _juuuuust_ in case. Oi, do you remember that prat Jensen from training? A class our junior?" he asked as he handed over the potion.

Draco screwed up his face in disgust. "You mean that lazy sod who thought he was better than everyone even though he was subpar at best?"

"That's the one!" Ron beamed, mischievously. "Well, may I just say that he went on and on on Tuesday about how annoyed he was that Harry had called them in so early because he hadn't been able to get his daily morning coffee from that posh new muggle café in Trafalgar Square," he said with a wink.

Draco smirked gratefully and pocketed the potion. Hermione handed him the coin but her hand lingered there. 

"Be safe, Draco," she said, sincerity shining in her eyes.

"And bring them back to us, alive." Ron reached for his hand and then, at the last minute, pulled him in for a half hug, clapping him heavily on the back. 

Draco swallowed thickly as he pulled away and nodded as he made to leave with renewed hope and a plan forming with each step. 

He had a floo call to make. 


	10. The Escape

**Friday, 26th January, 2007**

That Friday morning found Auror Jeffrey Jensen with an extra pep in his step as he apparated onto the sleepy, snowy London side street and headed towards Trafalgar square. Today was the day! The day that Harry Potter finally got his comeuppance!

It wasn't that he was jealous of the bloke -- of course not! ...It was just that he hated that Potter could seemingly do no wrong...

It was the whole _Savior_ thing that messed with people's heads, really. In reality, Potter was just a bossy, know-it-all, git! Yea he was good, but so was _he_! He may not be the fastest or hardest-working Auror in the unit, but you didn't need to be when you had what Jensen had: Pure, infallible, natural-born instinct.

The thought of having to work under that prick, Potter, had driven him mad but, then, the bizarre turn of events from earlier that week had given him hope! Oh, it was lovely! Potter couldn't lead if he were locked up in Azkaban.

Jensen smiled smugly to himself as he walked into his favorite coffee shop and joined the queue. He was just fantasizing about handing Harry over to the dementors when he was stirred from his thoughts by an annoyed brunette barista.

"What do you want?"

He frowned at the brusque question. It wasn't his usual server.

_"Excuse me?"_ he asked, puffing his chest out indignantly.

"Oh!" The girl's brown eyes went wide and she put on a performatively sweet voice. "What will it be for you today, _sir_?"

He huffed. Now _that_ was better, he thought. His whole point in coming to the place was for the good coffee and the kind (ego stroking) staff. They really needed to get this new girl on board with the program, quick!

"I'll have a vanilla café latte with two shots of espresso. And can you be a doll and add a little extra vanilla?" he winked.

A tiny smirk tugged at the woman's lips. "Oh, for you, hun, I'll make it extra special," she teased.

Jensen smiled smugly and straightened his tie. She was really sort of cute when she lost the attitude. He was surprised when she returned, barely a moment later, with a hot cup of coffee complete with latte art.

"Give it a taste, hun. Let me know if it's sweet enough," she encouraged as she slid the cup across the counter.

He gladly took a sip and smacked his lips at the perfect blend of coffee, milk, and sweetness. And there was something else there, too -- a nutty sort of something that he couldn't quite place his finger on but, somehow added to the flavor. 

"Oh, this is superb!" he said as he took another.

She leaned across the counter, cleavage spilling out of her red sweater and over the top of the green smock. "Oh good, I'm glad you like it." She said, her smile growing wide and teasing, the little imp.

He smiled and leaned casually against the glossy surface.

"Best I've ever had," he said, taking a long sip of the beverage. "So... are you, new around here?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

"Hmm... So tell me--" He paused, eyes going wide as a rumble shot through his stomach.

He shook his head briskly, effectively shaking off the sudden pang.

"So, tell me--" He grasped on to the counter as it happened again.

"You don't look so good, sweetie," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder when he doubled over against the counter, now flushed and sweaty.

"Oh, it's nothing!" he said and tried to stand tall, but that's when it hit him...

The brunette grinned as the beady-eyed bloke power-walked off towards the public restroom, cheeks clinched tightly.

The woman cooly slipped the apron off over her head -- ignoring the request that the next customer was already spouting out -- and grabbed a croissant and cup of coffee for herself on her way out.

Draco pushed off of the wall he'd been casually leaning against, hooded cloak pulled low over his face, and joined Pansy as she strode out of the café sipping a coffee.

"Really, love? _Him?_ You're going to be stuck looking like a brown-haired possum."

"How much did you give him?" he asked as she lackadaisically handed him the handful of hairs she'd plucked.

"The whole bottle," she sung, devilishly. "He'll be on the shitter for at least a few hours."

Perfect. If he did this right, he should only need two hours, max.

"Thanks, Pants." He kissed her on the cheek. "What would I ever do without you?"

"Yea, yea... Well, now that you've made me an accomplice in an Azkaban worthy offense, you owe me one!"

"No, I believe this makes us even," he smirked.

"Nope! You made me take the fucking muggle _Eurostar_ here for you. You owe me _big_ time."

He had to give it to his best friend: When he flooed her last night to say that he needed her charm, she didn't hesitate. Not even when he insisted that she only take muggle transportation so that she could avoid the portkeys. He didn't want anything placing her here when shite hit the fan. He'd much prefer the ministry think she was still sitting pretty in Paris.

"Ok, ok -- I owe you big time," he agreed. "Now go! Get the fuck out of here!"

She sighed.

"Draco, darling, please be careful," she said as she kissed him on the cheek.

They parted ways -- Draco heading straight to Whitehall.

* * *

Draco emerged from the alley near the employee entrance of the Ministry of Magic feeling like he had been simultaneously stretched and compressed: his usually lean, muscular frame was now more solid around the middle and he was several inches shorter.

He peaked into a nearby window display and the face reflected back at him frowned at its own small, blue, close-set eyes and strong, wide, angular chin. He was grateful, however, that the polyjuice _had_ actually changed his hair into the short, mousy brown mop of curls that it was supposed to because, really, it was a bit of a die roll. Draco hadn't thought much of it when he flummoxed his wedding bonding vows by saying the words _"blonded for life"_ instead of _"bonded_ ", but, he hadn't been able to do a thing with his hair since! (Imagine his great surprise the first time he'd agreed to let his friend, Candy, in New York dress him up in full drag only for even the damn wig to turn blonde!)

His entry into the Ministry went mercifully smoothly thanks to Hermione's coin giving him access to the toilets.

When he finally made it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on level 2, the Aurors were already heading into a large meeting room. He slipped into the room without issue and, when he recognized Stevens, a witch from his training year, he took the seat behind her hoping to overhear anything that could give him a clue as to where Harry was being held. 

"I can't believe Potter's really heading up the river to Azkaban," whispered a wizard who he also knew from their training class: Reynolds, or something. "Do you really think he did it?"

"I don't want to, but you have to admit, the evidence is pretty overwhelming..." said a graceful, older witch. 

"We worked that Warbeck case tirelessly with no leads. And for Potter to just suddenly know the makeup of that potion and it's cure..." An older wizard shook his head, doubtfully. 

"I don't know guys," Stevens shook her head. "That's just not Harry. And there's something fishy going on here. Robards pulled me from the Department of Magical Transportation case Harry put me on but I just keep thinking about that weird blip in the floo records on the Potter case. I can't help but wonder if they're somehow connected..."

"Robards just wants us to focus on figuring out how Potter did it," Reynolds noted. 

"That's just it! We have absolutely nothing more than theories and speculations but not an ounce of proof! Yet, somehow, this case has been pushed through to the Wizengamot at a speed faster than I've ever seen! We all know Harry -- and Robards probably knows him even better than any of us! So why, then, isn't he fighting to make sure we cover every possible angle on this?" Stevens pressed. 

"I would hope that means he has some grand knowledge that he hasn't yet shared with the rest of the class," the older wizard proposed. 

Stevens shook her head again, "Well, I for one, am not comfortable serving up our leader on a silver platter without any proof!"

Just as Draco was thinking that he really liked this girl, that gruff voice that always grated on Draco's last nerve broke through the murmurs of the room. 

"While I'm glad to know where your loyalties lie, Stevens, unless you have any proof to the contrary then I expect you to follow orders no matter what you're comfortable with," Robards said as he walked commandingly to the front of the room. "Potter will face justice! Do I make myself clear?!"

A hush rippled through the room. 

"Now, I will not hesitate to penalize any of you for insubordination but how about I make this easier on the lot of you? Is there anyone here who has no qualms about making sure that Potter faces justice here, no matter what that means?"

Draco was surprised when all eyes turned to him. 

_Oh_. 

And just like that, it occurred to him that he was meant to play the role of the pompous prick who hated Harry's guts and couldn't wait to see his downfall. 

The smirk came naturally and his eyes glinted with glee as he raised his arm into the air with practiced ease.

"Ok, that settles it! Jensen, with me!" Robards said as he marched out of the room. 

Draco stood and followed him quickly. 

"Where are we going, sir?" he asked when he caught up to Robards by the lifts. 

"To deliver Potter for his trial," Robards said as he pressed the button. "Potter will face justice."

Draco smiled and then tried to force himself to reign it in. He couldn't believe his luck! He was actually being _led_ to Harry!

"Yes, yes -- justice!" He nodded as he stepped onto the lift behind Robards. 

There were already a few esteemed witches and wizards on board coming from level one and Draco had to wonder if any of them might be a part of Harry's trial. 

One of them, a kindly but important looking witch with dark hair turned to Robards, solemnly. 

"Hello, Robards."

"Hello, Maxine," Robards said with a little bow of his head. 

"It's good to see you back within these walls -- although, I must admit, I hate that it is under such tragic and unexpected circumstances."

Robards nodded a little too fervently. "It's alright, Maxine. Potter will face justice."

"Oh... Yes... surely..." she said, a little taken aback.

Draco narrowed his (currently beady) eyes. Was it normal to say ' _justice'_ that many times in three minutes. 

"Sir?"

Robards turned to him, questioningly, as the lift continued its descent.

"Potter..." he said, experimentally. 

"Yes, don't worry, son, Potter will face justice soon. It's paramount that justice be served," he said, matter-of-factly. 

Draco bit Jensen's lip and stared straight ahead, heart pumping fast and wondering just how long the man had been imperiused. 

He swallowed thickly. This was bigger than he knew, he had no idea who all the players were, and -- he looked down as Jensen's stubby little gnawed at finger-beds turned into his usual, perfectly manicured set -- he didn't have much time!!! He had to find Harry quick and get the bloody hell out of there!

* * *

_Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa. WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!_

Harry groaned when nothing happened for what felt like the thousandth time.

He'd spent the better part of two hours directing all of his will at a loose stone, trying and failing to make it float wandlessly. He would've liked to have blamed it on his hands being bound behind his back but, the fact of the matter was: he was completely powerless without his wand.

He was sat on the cold, stone floor of the detention area near courtroom 10 awaiting his trial. Robards had moved him here to level 10 early that morning and the chill in the air told Harry that the dementors were already posted somewhere in front of the courtrooms. It must be nearly time.

Harry sighed in defeat, giving up on the rock that continued to lay there, mockingly, completely unfazed. At this point, all he could do was hope that Ron wouldn't let them stop looking for Ginny after he was... He swallowed hard as his mind drifted off to memories of his late godfather, fresh out of Azkaban in his third year. He tried to imagine his own face on Sirius' gaunt, emaciated figure from that year and shivered at the thought. And that was only _if_ he ever made it out! What about Teddy? He never wanted Teddy to see him like that or to have to know the pain that he had in being forced to live without Sirius.

He _had_ to find a way out of this! His adrenaline spiked and heart beat quickly as the sound of approaching footsteps filled the corridor. It wasn't long before Robards came into view flanked by Auror Jensen.

"Ok, Potter -- Time to move. There is justice to be had," Robards said, gruffly, as he unlocked the gold cell bars and stood aside. "Jensen, get him up!"

Jensen looked just as smug as always as he strode into the cell. Harry frowned. Jensen was an overconfident, careless prick with the half-cocked instincts of a blast ended skrewt! But maybe... maybe that could be a good thing...

Jensen smirked as he approached but Harry set his sights on the wand half hidden up the bloke's sleeve. If he could only get him to drop it...

"Oh, how I've waited for this moment," Jensen said, dramatically, as he neared and Robards seemed to puff out his chest, proudly.

"Go to hell, Jensen!" Harry spat.

"I'm sure hell is lovely this time of year, but, I think I'd rather go for some fish and chips instead, quite honestly."

Harry ignored Jensen's bizarre peacocking and focused on the wand. He waited until the man bent down, close, before he reared back and head-butted him right in the nose.

Jensen staggered backward but somehow held his ground _and_ (Harry bemoaned) his wand, firmly. Harry was surprised when the sick bastard stared back at him, blood streaming down into his mouth, and actually _smirked_.

"Huh... Haven't done that since what? Fifth year? Sixth?" Harry screwed up his face in confusion. What was he on about? Did Jensen even _go_ to Hogwarts? If so, then surely it wasn't the same year...

"Jensen! Are you alright?!" Robards boomed from just outside the cell.

"Oh, yes, nothing I can't handle, sir." He pointed his wand to his nose to stem the flow and licked at the blood. "You know, it's still awfully _sexy_ when you get feisty?" He said, now... _sauntering_ toward Harry.

Harry screwed up his face in disgust as that weird possum looking face tried to... to _smolder_?? Jensen always acted a bit odd but this was even a tad much for _him_...

"What's the matter? Not your type?" the bloke whispered in Harry's ear as he bent down to pull him to his feet and then did _thee_ most peculiar thing: Jensen slid his hand down to Harry's and wrapped his pinky finger around his....

Harry's eyes went wide as comprehension dawned.

Hopeful green eyes stared into beady blue ones that were gradually turning grey!

"What in carnation is taking so long?" Robards asked as he finally stepped into the cell. "Justice must be served!"

Red light jetted so quickly from the tip of Draco's wand (because now that he looked at it, _of course_ it was Draco's wand) that Harry almost missed it. The towering man looked stunned for the slightest of moments before he swayed and dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Harry's heart was beating too fast. It couldn't be...

" _Draco_?" Harry asked with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

"Took you long enough," he said, still in Jensen's voice, before pointing his wand at Harry's binds. " _Finite!_ "

Harry flexed his wrists and relished the freedom of the movement. His eyes dropped to the man on the floor but, somehow, he was the one that felt stunned. 

"We have to move, the Polyjuice is already wearing off," the man said as he stepped over Robards' form, stopping to grab the fallen wand and thrusting it into Harry's hand.

"But..." Harry followed him out of the cell and watched the still utterly bizarre scene of Jensen locking the cell doors behind them with Robards still inside. "Merlin! _Draco..._ what are you doing here?!"

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing, Potter? Saving your arse!" he said as he turned to walk briskly down the corridor.

Well _that_ at least _sounded_ like Draco... even if it still sounded like --

Harry jogged to keep up with the retreating, polyjuiced form. The pure shock of the situation was wearing off only to be replaced with pure bafflement.

"But... Why?! I mean -- I didn't even know you were still in the country!"

"I wasn't. I still take _The Prophet_ in Australia," he said, not slowing his steps.

So he was saying he'd been overseas and the only word he had about the situation was whatever slander _The Prophet_ spewed yet he still came? Harry's heart was doing strange things that he willed to stop, at least while the man still looked liked that prat Jeffrey Jensen.

"And you didn't believe --"

"Oh please, Potter, you used _expelliarmus_ on the fucking Dark Lord. Anyone would have to be seriously daft to believe you could kill your wife." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin, you ask a lot of questions for someone--"

Harry ran into him as he stopped abruptly, throwing an arm out to stop him before they rounded the corner.

Harry felt the chill and the sudden feeling of joy being sucked out of the air. They peeked, carefully, around the corner.

"Dementors. Two of them."

"The courtrooms are there." Harry pointed to the open doors where the Dementors stood sentry. "I don't think there's a way around them... We're bound to be seen, if not by the wizengamot then definitely by the Dementors."

The members of the wizengamot were filing down the hall and into to courtroom. They watched as they walked right past the dementors, untouched.

Jensen/Draco looked at him curiously.

"Well, _technically_ , you're still innocent for now..."

Harry frowned as he tried to make sure he was following the bloke's logic. "Surely you aren't suggesting what I think you are?"

He shrugged. "I mean, assuming they are trained to only go after whoever they're told, then we _should_ have a few minutes before they send them after you."

" _Assuming? Should?!_ " Harry hissed.

Draco aimed his wand and the door to courtroom 10 slammed shut behind the last of the wizengamot. Harry heard him mutter a quick locking spell.

_"What in Merlin's -- Did you see that?"_ came the muffled voices from behind the heavy wood followed by hollow attempts to pull the door back open. 

"Well, that won't hold long! Come on!" he said, reaching out to grab Harry's hand with a hand that was too slender and pale to belong to Jensen.

Draco walked determinedly down the hall in what was now feeling to Harry like the most dreadful game of chicken. The screams of despair started up in his head as they closed the gap.

"I sure hope you can cast a patronus..." he prayed, feebly.

"Of course not," Draco responded in a voice that was now Draco's, too.

Harry held Robards wand tightly, not at all sure if it would work for him since he hadn't won it and in no mood to find out.

Draco led him right past the two dementors and, while Harry had to fight not to be overwhelmed by the sound of wailing in his own mind, he was surprised when Draco was right and the strange creatures just let them pass! Apparently, Draco was just as surprised because he turned to Harry with a beautifully bright, breathless smile (that Jensen's couldn't have come close to if he tried) the moment they'd cleared them. His thick frame started to thin. 

Suddenly, the air shook with Robards' booming voice: _"HE'S ESCAPED! SOUND THE ALARM!!! SEAL THE EXITS!!!"_

They looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Run!" Draco shouted as he tugged him down the remaining length of the corridor and up the stairs that led to the lift. He pressed the lift button frantically and Harry could hear the heavy footsteps of people running along the corridor while the cries of his dying mother got louder, again. Luckily, the lifts came just as the shadows of their gaining captors bent round the corner.

Draco reached into his robe as the doors closed and pulled out a tin with the _Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes_ logo from one pocket and a shriveled-up, dried human hand with a candle firmly in its grasp from the other. Harry's jaw dropped.

_No way!_

"Draco, is that?"

"Yea, yea -- I know -- the last time I used this was, admittedly, not my finest hour -- But, really, why mess with what works? Grab on," he said, extending his Hand of Glory.

Harry reached out hesitantly and grabbed ahold of the gnarled hand. The lift doors opened onto the atrium and Harry watched in awe, marveling at the sheer amount of strategy and detail this plan must have taken as Draco, looking for all the world like a damn good Auror instead of an investment banker, threw the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder into the air and readied his wand. 

The large hall was plunged into darkness but the Hand of Glory shone brightly, illuminating the scene for he and Draco, alone.

It was bizarre watching the chaos that ensued: all around them, witches and wizards screamed in panic or, otherwise, ran into each other as they cast useless light spells.

"You're brilliant, Draco!" Harry beamed as they easily navigated the pandemonium. 

Draco ignored the comment but a pink blush was just visible on his pale cheeks in the candlelight. 

"There!" He pointed to the line of fireplaces across the hall that lead out to the employee entrance. They carefully wound their way through the crowd towards their only way out.

Harry wasn't surprised at all when the aurors showed up but Draco faltered when the team filed in quickly and with precision, wasting no time surrounding the room despite the darkness.

"Shite!"

"What's happening? Can they see us?" Draco asked, unsure.

"No, not yet -- it's protocol MI-8." He cursed himself for coming up with the damned thing. "Surround, secure, clear and procure."

Right on cue the gold gates began to seal the fireplaces, one at a time, starting at the furthest end of the room. The Aurors raised their wands at once and waved them in the same circular motion.

"Crap!"

Strong gusts of wind began gradually sweeping away the the powder so that dull light began to penatrate the darkness, threatening to expose them any minute now. 

" _Fuck fuck fuck!_ " Draco said, slightly panicked.

"We'll just have to fight our way through," Harry said, cracking his neck and preparing for battle. 

Draco (who was now mostly himself except for the brown curly hair atop his head which was rapidly growing longer) looked even paler than normal. It suddenly dawned on Harry that Draco left training at the very _beginning_ of their third year: the _practical_ year.

"Draco... You've never actually _fought_ in a real wand battle a day in your life, have you?" Harry inwardly groaned with the realization. 

"Against thirty people?!" Draco asked, indignantly, eyes wide and slightly terrified as he gripped his wand tightly and raised it high in preparation. "Not exactly, no."

Harry didn't know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or kiss the man risking everything to be by his side. He'd probably have to do all three at some point but, for now, he settled on laughing. 

"Quietly strategic and disruptive type?" He smiled, something warm reflected in his eyes. 

"Yep," Draco smirked, eyes still flickering back and forth between the threat now looming from every angle. "And you're supposed to be _'wands ablazing'_ so will you _please_ get us out of this?"

Harry smiled widely and nodded. 

"Listen, Draco, just shield and run. Shield and run. You ready?"

Draco nodded though he still looked a bit petrified.

Harry started to sprint outright through the crowds towards the remaining fireplaces as stunners made their way through the hazy remnants of the darkness powder.

He and Draco ducked and dodged the fire but, when Harry raised Robards' wand to cast, he found that the stupid, stubborn, useless thing only spit out sparks!

"Now would be a really good time for you to be the braun in this duo, Potter!" Draco yelled as he fired shield charms left and right, as instructed.

"It's the wand! I didn't win it!" He tried again before finally throwing the pointless thing across the room in frustration.

" _Crap crap crap!_ " Draco exclaimed. "Potter, how in the _fuck_ is it possible that whenever we're together one of us ends up without a fucking wand?!"

Harry was just about to tell him to keep pushing forward when Draco paused, mouth wide open, as a _Flipendo_ aimed from Reynolds' wand headed straight towards him, right on course to hit him square in the chest.

Things seemed to move in slow motion as Harry pushed Draco behind him and felt the fear and love and rage that he had pushed away for so long fill him from his core as something stirred within him that he hadn't felt in years.

Harry's wandless counter repelled the jinx with such force that it pulverized part of the nearby fountain and knocked several of the oncoming Aurors backwards. Water shot high into the air from where the stone goblin had once stood and showered down upon them. 

Harry, still slightly shocked, turned to find exhilarated grey eyes blinking back at him through wet, brown hair. They shared twin smirks as renewed hope filled them! They nodded once before pushing forward, Harry casting a mixture of defensive and offensive spells, wandlessly, while Draco covered his back.

Despite their efforts, the aurors were still closing in, strong, and Harry had to wonder if they really stood a chance. But then, miraculously (or maybe not so miraculously), some of them appeared to stand down.

It was the terror on Stevens' face as she lowered her wand that told him what was coming before the screaming built to an almost unbearable pitch and long shadows stretched before their path, created by the figures now flying directly above them.

Bullocks. The patronus charm was one that he was _sure_ required the conduit of a wand.

"Draco! You've _got_ to cast a patronus!"

"I can't, Harry! I'm telling you!" he yelled as he cast another shield charm and an impending hex ricocheted off of it.

There were only three fireplaces yet to be sealed off and they were so close to the nearest one!

Draco slid as he tried to avoid running directly into one of the Dementors as it glided into their path. He stopped and reached for Harry's hand, fear etched onto his face and wet hair now long and silky but still brown as the dementor slowly raised its arms to lower its hood. 

Harry stared into frantic grey eyes and remembered that soft, timid kiss in that club the night Draco had sung him Spice Girls. He remembered the exact moment when he finally understood why people called it making _love_ instead of just having sex. And he vividly remembered Draco Malfoy dancing to the gayest Madona song of all time in his little arse muggle apartment!

Harry wrapped his hand around Draco's wand hand and didn't break eye contact as he guided Draco's hand to make the movement.

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!!!!"_ he yelled.

They were both shocked when a silver stag actually shot through the tip of Draco's wand. It galloped around the room, driving off the looming dementors.

Draco stared at him, frozen in awed shock. Harry pulled him forward and practically threw him into the last fireplace just as it sealed behind them. They shot out of the employee toilet and Draco grabbed his hand, just as his hair turned blonde, so that he stood before Harry: wet, robes singed from close calls and slightly too big, remnants of dried blood still on his face, but, fully Draco Malfoy. Draco stared up into green eyes as he spun on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually post later in the day on Wednesdays but I don't think I've ever been thirstier to post a chapter! Whew! I've been so excited to get you guys to this point in the story! I truly hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for rocking with the story all this time despite the fact that it took 10 chapters to get Harry and Draco in the same room together 😅


	11. Little Whinging

**Friday, 26th January, 2007**

Draco frantically felt his face with hands too cold and clammy to be dignified, in a move intended just as much to make sure that all of his parts were back sorted as it was to confirm that he was, in fact, still alive! He placed a hand over his chest, hoping to still the heart now threatening to beat out of his rib cage and turned wide, grey eyes to the man standing beside him in the alley he'd apparated them to.

While Draco had been terrified, Harry wore the same exhilarated expression that used to annoy him to no end whenever Slytherin played against Gryffindor back in their school days. Now, it just made him smile, in spite of himself, and despite the fact that he was sure he looked terribly bedraggled.

_"Oh!"_ he squeaked out in surprise when Harry, in a moment of pure, reckless abandon, captured his face with his own two hands as if he could kiss him!

"That was bloody _brilliant,_ Draco!" he exclaimed.

Draco's smile went from shy to ravishing and Harry's eyes traveled down to it, automatically, making the moment feel charged and Draco's already distressed heart leap. Just when he was quite sure that Harry sodding Potter might literally be the death of him and that he didn't very much mind, something shifted for Harry and he dropped his hands to his side, the carefree, thrilled countenance from a moment before replaced by something more hesitant and doubtful. 

"Harry..."

He watched as a familiar battle warred behind emerald green windows into a mind far too complicated by far too many experiences of love and loss. Draco sighed. It still amazed him that the man who he never saw bat an eye in the face of danger could look so scared and fragile when it came to matters of the heart. 

He rolled his eyes. 

"Harry. You're doing that thing where you forget to breathe. What is it?"

"Draco... I don't know how I could ever thank you, really..." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and glanced down at his soggy trainers. When he glanced back up at him, it was through long black lashes. Draco was so mesmerized by the sight that he almost missed the next bit. "--But, you've got to get out of here and I've got to go and find Ginny."

Draco blinked back at him, incredulously, as his mind processed the insane request. 

"So you've gone mad, then?"

Harry's bespectacled eyes widened, taken aback. 

"Loony? Round the bin?" Draco pressed, brow furrowed, seriously. 

"What? No, I just mean that this is going to get really dangerous and it's complicated and you might not want to--"

Harry quelled at the look on his face -- _as well he should!_ Did Potter really think he was that fragile and delicate or that he was some naive, bloody dunce with no idea what he was getting himself into?!

"Harry, I've already crossed a continent, illegally obtained official documents, corrupted one ministry official, poisoned a man, infiltrated the ministry, attacked and imprisoned another ministry official, held the wizengamot against their will, almost got my fucking _soul_ sucked out -- and NOT in the good way -- all to aid and abet in the escape of a _clearly_ mental fugitive." Now _he_ was the one who looked slightly deranged as he rattled off his list of offenses. "I'm not going anywhere!" he growled. 

Harry blinked back, dumbfounded. It took a moment before his eyes eventually lit up with something akin to hope. Finally, a tiny smirk curled his lips. 

"Now, are you done with your obligatory Gryffindor martyr shite, so we can grab something to eat before we find little Ms. Weaselette and clear your name? I'm famished."

Harry smiled, brilliantly, and he finally nodded, reassured.

"Yes, sir," he said, trying and failing to bite back his smile. Then he let out a little laugh. "You know, Draco, if you wanted your own 'Harry Potter adventure' that badly, you could've just said so."

Draco rolled his eyes as his heart fluttered, traitorously, and stormed off towards the street, haughtily mumbling about _'ridiculous bloody Gryffindors'_ as he pointed his wand at himself in an attempt to dry his hair and shrink his robes. 

"Wait a minute!" Harry shouted after him when he finally took stock of his surroundings. "Draco, did you apparate us to Kamal's?"

Draco didn't stop to turn around.

"I said I wanted fish and chips, didn't I?" he shrugged.

* * *

"Surrey?" Harry screwed up his face in confusion. "Why would there be a floo connection in _Surrey_?"

They were sat at the same red and white checkered table that they sat around the very first time Harry had brought Draco to Kamal's, only this time Draco was the one making quick work of Kamal's signature dish while Harry's... _predicament..._ made food the last thing on his mind. Draco had just informed him that Robards was imperiused and that Ginny's last known whereabouts were somewhere in Surrey.

Draco raised a finger mid-chew and closed his eyes as he savored his bite of perfectly golden, battered cod. Harry rolled his eyes and waited, impatiently. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, had he ever let himself dream about reuniting, but it was a weird sort of relief to see that Draco was the same ol' prat that he'd always been. Perhaps a bit bolder and certainly freer, but still the annoying, demanding man that he'd known. And they fell so easily back into their old banter that Harry could almost forget that the void of the past five and a half years had existed.

But, therein lied the problem: It had existed. And within it, Harry had been hurt so badly. What if he opened himself up again only to experience that excruciating pain again? What would happen when Draco ran off to Australia, again?

And then there was the little matter of Harry _being married and his fucking wife having gone missing!_ Sure, they were technically separated and she had basically told him to fly free -- to reconnect with Draco, even. But what kind of piece of shite would he be to move on or get wrapped up in some heated fling with an old flame before he's even made sure that she's still alive?

And so with that thought, Harry swallowed and willfully decided to ignore it all. He was good at that, right? If Draco insisted on being here then they could be partners. On the case. Surely, Harry could keep his hands to himself and his thoughts focused. He was Head Auror, afterall --or, at least, _had_ been.

Draco finished his bite and shrugged.

"There shouldn't have been, it wasn't authorized. Some muggle inn."

" _What_?!" A muggle inn? That was the last thing he was expecting him to say. "Draco, why is it that the more you say, the less any of this makes sense? And how do you even know any of this? I thought DMT said that they found nothing more than a ' _blip in the system'_ in Holyhead? How does that play into all this?"

"Yes, well, about that... it appears that she tried to apparate to Holyhead and something either went wrong or she redirected but, either way, she wound up in a muggle inn in Surrey."

It didn't escape Harry that he was avoiding the _"How do you know?"_ bit of the question. He was just about to press the matter when Draco grimaced, and shot him an apologetic look that did not bode well before he continued.

"And... apparently it's a lot easier for the DMT to follow the full floo trajectory when you know the starting point..."

"How on earth would you know--" Harry stopped mid sentence as comprehension dawned.

_Oh._

Draco sighed as he pulled out what appeared to be an impervioused document with the Ministry of Magic ledger, front and center, from an inside robe pocket. He placed it in front of Harry, who raked over it quickly. 

"Wait... Draco, is this--"

Draco nodded. "Ginevra's floo record from Monday morning. When I readabout what happened at the restaurant in _The Prophet_ , I took a guess at where she might've gone Sunday night..." he said, watching Harry's reaction carefully. 

Harry's brow creased when he saw her point of origin. _Of course_.

Silence stretched between them until Draco broke it, finally. 

"You... You did know... didn't you?" Draco seemed uncertain whether or not it was ok for him to ask. 

Harry stared back at him for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. 

"Yes. I knew," he said, trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice. "But it doesn't matter at this point. An inn, you say?"

Draco looked like he had questions but, thankfully, his sense of propriety seemed to prevail and, taking Harry's cue, he allowed the subject change. 

"Yes, a muggle inn," Draco repeated. "Harry, assuming she redirected herself there, why might she think to go to a muggle neighborhood?"

Harry pondered, deep in thought. 

Unlike London or other places that had established wizarding communities, the whole county of Surrey was practically muggle. He and Mrs. Figg were the only connections to the the wizarding world that Harry even knew of from there.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. Ginny knows a little bit about navigating muggle _London_ but not Surrey. I'm _from_ Surrey and I try to steer as far away from the place as possible." 

It certainly wasn't a place that held lots of fond memories. He had only even been back once in all these years and that had been... 

Harry's face lit up. 

_"Cheesy chicken nachos!!!"_

"I beg your pardon?" Draco looked at him, again, as if he'd gone round the bin.

"Draco, what was the inn called??"

"The Merry Chandelier or something ridiculous like that --"

"Yes!" Harry clapped his hands excitedly and pumped his fist into the air, drawing startled looks from the other restaurant goers and surprise from the blonde man across from him. "That's the inn we stayed at about a year or two after the war! My cousin, Dudley, wanted to make amends and I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but, Gin thought I should do it -- for healing and all that --"

Draco's eyes narrowed, curiously. He looked angry for some reason but Harry pressed on. 

"Well, afterwards, we went to this bar -- that had these amazing cheesy chicken nachos -- and we wound up getting so sloshed that we couldn't apparate home so we stayed at _The Merry Chandelier_!"

Draco perked up, too. 

"Ok, so why would she go there now?"

Harry looked down at his hands and shook his head. Ginny had left a clue that only he could ever pick up on in a place that probably no one else in their world was as familiar with. The clever witch was leaving him a trail.

He looked back up at Draco who was eying him warily.

"You might want to ditch the robes."

Draco's resulting smirk and questioning brow made him blush.

_Shite._

The whole ' _ignore it'_ plan was going to be tougher than he thought. And as if the universe was listening, his friend Kamal chose that moment to pop by and say:

"Harry! It's so good to see you back here with your boyfriend after all these years!"

Harry's cheeks turned beet red as the word " _boyfriend_ " echoed in his ears and he looked over to see Draco watching him curiously. 

* * *

Draco was grateful that he'd opted to wear his warmest jumper today as Potter had, indeed, made him ditch the robes. He shivered as he apparated them to the address that Harry had given him, already yearning for the balmy, Australian temperatures. They appeared on a picturesque little suburban street with lawns that all still somehow looked perfectly manicured, despite the frost.

The home nearest to them looked very much like all the others minus the steal bars on two of the three windows of an upper floor bedroom (odd, considering that there were none on the middle window, which Draco thought must defeat whatever point these muggles had been trying to make). Harry didn't spare the house a glance, however, as he marched off up the street leaving Draco to jog after him.

"Where are we?" he asked when he'd caught up. 

"Little Whinging," he said, matter-of-factly. "Where I grew up."

Draco's eyes widened, intrigued. He looked around, trying to imagine a young Harry Potter growing up in this place. It, somehow, didn't quite fit.

"I couldn't remember exactly where it was, but I know it has to be around here, somewhere," Harry said as they turned yet another corner. 

Draco stayed a step behind, letting Harry lead the way both because he had no idea where he was going, as well as the fact that it made it easier to sneak glances at the bloke without being conspicuous. Harry's fixed determination was a sight to behold, for sure, and it certainly didn't help the ridiculous fluttering sensation in Draco's stomach or, occasionally, his chest.

So far, they'd done a bang up job of ignoring the giant, the basilisk, and the dragon in the room which left Draco on unsteady footing. There was a shite ton of things they needed to talk about but, with kidnapped girl regrettably taking precedence, it had hardly seemed like the appropriate time to bring up the fact that the last time they'd seen each other (before the restaurant encounter) they'd been professing their undying love for each other with Harry's dick up his arse... He sighed to himself, deciding he should probably let Harry take the lead on that since he _was_ the distressed fugitive. _Merlin._ Knowing how Potter clammed up around feelings, they were in for a long ride.

"Ok, here's the bar," Harry said a short while later when they came across a shabby looking pub. "So that must mean... There!"

Draco followed his gaze to the charming little inn across the way.

_The Merry Chandelier_.

A bell chimed as they walked through the door and an elderly muggle woman greeted them.

"Oh, my, what a lovely couple." She smiled kindly and Draco felt the heat rush to his face. He turned to find Harry in no better shape, his cheeks practically rosy. "May I offer you our room off of the garden? Guests always say it's our most romantic," she winked.

"Erhm... No -- No, that's alright," Harry said, awkwardly, his blush reaching his ears. "This is actually going to sound quite strange, but we're searching for a girl... She's about this height, red hair, might've come through here on Monday through the... through the fireplace..." He finished lamely in anticipation of how bizarre that must sound to the muggle woman.

Surprisingly, her eyebrows shot up in surprised recognition.

"You mean the girl from the chimney?" She furrowed her brow and Harry turned to Draco, hope shining brightly on his face.

"Yes, that's her!" he said, turning back to the woman.

"In all my years, I have never!" She shook her head and lead them over to the paisley patterned sofas to have a seat. "It was Monday morning and I had just checked out two guests when this red-headed lass landed in a rumpled heap in my fireplace! She was dressed quite oddly, like she was dressed up for one of those comic-con conventions they have in the city."

"What's a _comic-con_?" Draco asked, face screwed up in confusion. 

"I'll explain later," Harry rolled his eyes before turning back to the woman. "What happened next?"

"Well I ran over to help her, of course! I asked her why in heavens name would she have been going down chimneys?!But the poor dear -- I don't think she was quite right." The muggle woman shook her head. "She looked truly petrified. Maybe still in shock from the fall? But anyways, she was clutching on to this broken stick for dear life and when I tried to get her to have a seat so I could call someone to look her over, she just took off running out the door! She must've been injured because she had a slight limp."

Harry paled more and more with every word.

"So she's injured and wandless?"

"What was that, son?"

"Her stick! She broke her stick?" Harry was struggling to keep his voice even. Draco instinctively reached out to grab his hand in his without thinking, it only belatedly occurring to him that he probably shouldn't have. Harry looked at their interlocked hands with a strained look and swallowed thickly, but Draco was surprised when, instead of letting go, he squeezed back tightly and held on.

The woman nodded. "I half thought I was going mad, made it all up, you see. It's not everyday that a strange girl falls out of the chimney like a mixed up Father Christmas! That is -- until two men crashed in, one after the other, not even a full minute after she'd run out of the door!"

At that, Harry could no longer contain himself. He stood abruptly, letting go of Draco's hand, to pace back and forth on the threadbare rug. He ran his fingers through his hair, threatening to dislodge his bun.

The woman turned to Draco, surprised by the shift in mood.

He smiled, politely. "My apologies. Can you tell us anything about the two men?"

"Actually... _I can't_! It's the strangest thing! I can remember every detail of the young woman down to the dainty little ring she wore on her finger -- but when I try to think of those blokes, I can't remember a thing! Not a single feature!" She shook her head, again. "Now, I might be getting on in age, but I usually pride myself in being able to remember any face or name -- comes right handy with a job like this. But for those two, it's like my memory's gone all foggy..."

Draco swallowed. So she'd been confounded. Whoever was behind this was serious and thorough.

"Thank you, madam. Is there anything else? Anything at all you can remember about them?"

She frowned in thought as she recalled the events of Monday morning.

"Only that they had thick accents. Bulgarian, if I'm not mistaken."

Draco gasped and turned to Harry who'd stopped pacing. The raven-haired man wore a renewed look of determination, holding on to the new piece of information like a lifeline.

"Bulgarian? Are you certain?" Draco asked, mentally calculating the odds that some miraculous deal with the Bulgarians falls into Blaise's lap in the same week that his girlfriend is chased by and, possibly kidnapped by, Bulgarian men.

"Oh, yes, dear. I've rendezvoused with a Bulgarian bloke or two back in my day, believe it or not."

Draco fought his shiver at the thought of the sweet little old lady getting up to things that were anything but sweet-little-old-lady-ish. Harry, on the other hand, was already on his way out of the door.

Draco stood and thanked the woman before following.

Harry was standing in the middle of the street looking around frantically when he caught up.

"Wand... Wand..." he said, apparently too riled up to think straight as he absentmindedly pat down his muggle hoodie and jeans, searching for his wand that was surely still somewhere back in an evidence locker at the ministry. "Draco, I need your wand!" he said, suddenly.

Draco intuitively clutched his wand to his chest, possessively. Harry frowned at him and Draco gave him a rueful smile as he handed it over.

"Sorry! Force of habbit," he said, blushing.

Harry gave him a wry look but quickly got to work.

_"Appare Vestigium,"_ he whispered low over the wand and spun in place as gold dust spun from its tip and covered the length of the street, clinging to three sets of magical footprints. 

Draco gasped. "Harry... _Appare Vestigium_ is a pretty powerful spell, how did that even work without having the proper wand?"

It shouldn't have been possible... Then, again, it shouldn't have been possible for Harry to cast that Patronus from his wand either, especially without even holding on to the thing.

Harry shrugged. "I'm guessing it has something to do with whatever Ollivander was on about."

Draco had nearly forgotten about the old man's ramblings from the case they'd worked together all those years ago. If it weren't for the ridiculous notion the man had that Draco, himself, had once possessed the fabled Elder Wand, then he might have forgotten about it entirely.

_Two boys, opposite sides of the same coin. Both miraculously the possessors of both a Hawthorn wand and the Elder Wand._

_'Rewrote the rules of wandlore,'_ he'd said. Draco had thought it all a bunch of rubbish at the time but, maybe there was something to it, after all.

Harry was already closely examining the golden footprints. The first headed east and the others appeared to have started going west and then circle around to go east.

"These ones are Ginny's!" he said, pointing to the smaller set.

Draco joined him at his side and watched as the gold dust spiraled into the air to take the shape of Ginevra running off, gingerly, heading east. They walked over to the bigger ones and the dust formed into two familiar, hulking forms. 

"It's Oblansk's dignitaries." He swallowed.

They started to run west, paused, and then circled back in the direction Ginny had gone. 

Harry looked fierce but focused as he took off following the gold forms and their shining footsteps. 

They rounded a corner where stairs led to a rail system and Weaselette's footprints made it about halfway up the stairs before the other two sets caught up to her and the trace disappeared. 

Harry cursed under his breath. 

"She did exactly what I would have done if I were wandless in muggle territory: try to lose them on the trains." He shook his head. "She would have probably made it, too, if she wasn't hurt."

Draco placed a hand on Harry's back as his shoulders dropped. "Draco, who are these guys and how do we find them?"

"Their names are Hristofor and Grozdan and, from what I could tell, they are trusted advisors to the Bulgarian Minister for Magic." Draco shook his head. "Apparently, they had a big role in convincing Oblansk to go international instead of using in house underwriters. I thought it was a little strange that they were a part of the deal since they didn't seem to have roles specifically in finance, but they did seem genuinely excited by the prospect of the payout and curious about the intricacies of the deal... Not what you'd expect from kidnappers, really. It's just not adding up, why set this all up to get to Weaselette?"

Harry sighed. "Draco, is it really that hard for you to call her Ginny?"

He crossed his arms and huffed. 

"Look, Harry, it's either Weaselette and Ginevra or _'That whore'._ " He frowned, knowing full well that he sounded petulant and petty. "Is this really the battle you want to pick right now?" he hissed.

Harry chuckled. Actually _chuckled._ And it tugged at something deep inside of Draco that was quite inappropriate for the occasion. 

"What? Am I joke to you, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. 

"No, you're just cute when you're jealous." Harry seemed to have surprised himself with the admission if the resulting blush or the way he rolled his eyes at himself were any indicator. There was that tug again. "Ok, how do we reach these guys?"

"Well I know at least one of them has a residence in the UK so there's a chance they haven't left the area..."

Draco twisted his mouth, wryly, in thought. His disguise had been shot to shite back at the ministry by the time they'd made their escape but there had been so much going on that he had no idea if anyone had worked out who Harry Potter's accomplice was, yet. 

He had to find out and he needed a floo. Any place associated with Harry would surely be under heavy surveillance so Andromeda was out and, if the ministry knew about Blaise and _Ginevra_ at all, then the office and the old apartment weren't safe either. 

He swallowed thickly. 

"I have an idea," he said, reaching for Harry's hand and spinning on the spot. 


	12. Wizard's Chess

_"Shite."_

Distracted by the opulence of the grand drawing room Draco had just apparated them to, Harry didn't immediately grasp exactly what had caused Draco's reaction. He jumped and reached for his absent wand, however, when he turned to find Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy staring at them, completely flabbergasted, from where they were sat around the fire. 

" _Draco_..." he hissed through clinched teeth. "What in the bloody _fuck_ are you getting at?"

" _Sorry!_ I don't understand -- They have a routine, they usually only ever come in here during the 5pm hour after supper!" He whispered back, panicked. 

"What?!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Draco, it's got to be nearly half past 5 by now!"

He heard Draco swallow. 

"Well _excuse_ _me_ \-- I'm still on Australian time, my math may have been a little off!" he said, defensively. 

"Oh dear, Gods..." Lucius' voice broke through the bickering as the man, apparently, found his bearings. "Draco... Please don't tell me this is you." 

The already fair man paled as he held up the latest issue of _The_ _Daily Prophet_ with the headline:

**BREAKING NEWS!!! HARRY POTTER MAKES DARING ESCAPE WITH THE AID OF UNKNOWN, HOMOSEXUAL LOVER!!!** ( **Who is this mysterious chap? Rita Skeeter weighs in on this new, damning information that has us all wondering: Was the bloke involved in the plot to get rid of Potter's wife? And where is Ginny Potter's body?"**

* * *

"Draco, while I assure you that it will be my extreme pleasure to have a hand in Potter's fall from grace," Lucius' lips curled into a satisfied sneer as his eyes landed on the boy turned man who had singlehandedly been behind every one of his missteps and, ironically, his own fall from grace. He cocked his head. "--and though I couldn't much care what happens to you at that moment, please, indulge me. Was this depraved lifestyle you've chosen to live worth throwing your life away?"

" _What?!_ " Harry frowned at his side and stepped forward, fists balled in lieu of his wand. Lucius gripped his wand tighter and Draco put out an arm to stop Harry. Harry didn't understand his father's dance and his Gryffindor bravado might quickly turn the situation on its head.

"Harry's innocent, father. I'm just helping him find his wife to clear his name," he said, staring directly into grey eyes in a quiet standoff. "And if you don't care what happens to either of us, then you should at least care that the moment you draw attention to my involvement, then you also open this family up to yet another investigation by the ministry where they'll surely find that Ginevra Potter went missing from a property that's still placed in _your_ name. Are you ready to throw _your_ life away? _Again_?" he asked, cocking his head in a way that mirrored the man he looked so much alike.

He watched Lucius' wheels turn as he tried to figure out his next move before, eventually, sighing in defeat.

"Why are you here, Draco?"

"I just need to used the floo. And maybe grab some things from my room." Lucius frowned back at him but didn't protest. Draco was just about to mentally celebrate having won this latest game of pureblood wizard's chess when a truly impossible thought occurred to him. He hesitated a moment before deciding he didn't have much to lose and so he might as well try his luck: "And... Maybe a place for us to stay for the night."

Narcissa, who had been avoiding looking at him (as was her tendency) but silently staring dagger into Harry this whole time, was suddenly on her feet.

"No! I will not have the man who corrupted my son staying under my roof!" she snarled, furiously.

Draco looked between her and Harry, who just looked shocked and baffled.

"Mother... Is that what you thought?" Had she been blaming this all on Harry this whole time?

Narcissa finally faced him square on, "My perfect boy never would have broken his mother's heart if it weren't for this... this... _Miscreant_!"

Draco laughed, "If it's corrupting you were worried about then I can assure you that _that_ happened the other way round."

" _Draco!_ " Harry hissed, mortified, and placed his face in his hand. Draco shot him a semi-apologetic smirk before he turned back to his mother who was avoiding his gaze again. For some reason, she reminded him of a wounded cat.

"Mother..." he said, gently. He approached her slowly and, when she didn't turn away, he reached out and took her hands in his. He bent to try to look her in the eyes, but she continued to look to the side. "Mother, I need you to know that Harry had nothing to do with me coming out or me ending my marriage. Neither did you. I know you wish that you had... but I just needed to live. _My life_! I needed to live it!"

She pulled away and stalked out of the room without another word. Draco's brow furrowed and his eyes began to sting as he stared after her. A comforting hand found its way onto his his shoulder and he turned to find concerned green eyes searching his.

"Er-hmm" Lucius cleared his throat and they startled apart. "You may use the floo. You can stay the night but that's all. While I'll heed your advice and not actively invoke any unnecessary inquiries onto this family, I also will not make a habit of harboring fugitives in this home."

Draco heard the unspoken ' _again'_ at the end of his sentence and nodded his agreement.

Lucius shot Harry one last look of contempt and then marched out, too -- his robes swirling in a flourish behind him.

"Are you ok, Draco?"

He swallowed thickly but nodded. 

"This is as typical a visit home as any," he said, making his way over to the fireplace. 

Harry followed and stilled his hand as he reached for the floo powder. 

"They never accepted you?" There was sadness in his eyes. 

Draco fought the lump in his throat and croaked out a laugh instead, "Please, the closest my parents have ever come to acceptance was when I told father I had taken up ballroom dancing at the ball houses when I was living in New York. ...Of course, he had no idea that the term means something _very_ different there, at the time."

It was funny, really -- in a twisted sort of way. Draco had gambled everything for his parents' love, sacrificed everything that mattered! And he'd lost it anyways.

Harry looked rueful.

"I'm sorry, Draco. You deserved so much more from them. I don't know if it means anything, but..." He looked away and shook his head as if debating something. When he returned his gaze to Draco's, there was nervous sincerity shining there. "I was so proud of you when I heard you actually did it... Came out, I mean. Finally decided to live for yourself." He rolled his eyes and added as an afterthought: "I mean, annoyed as all fuck that you waited until the week I proposed to Ginny, but, still proud."

Draco stared back, shocked but touched.

"The timing was completely coincidental, I assure you. More a reflection of my unfortunate luck than anything," he said breathily as Harry reached out to tuck long, soft strands of blonde hair behind his ear. "The closet is a dangerous place. Can make you miss out on so much _more_."

He found himself lost in green eyes that were now mere inches away. Harry licked his lips and Draco's eyes followed the movement.

He leant in and was relieved when Harry did too, letting soft lips brush together, sweetly. Harry wrapped his arms around his hips and sighed, pulling away from the kiss and resting his forehead on Draco's in a move that reminded him so much of their very first kiss.

"Speaking of my wife, how about we find her so I won't feel guilty for doing that..."

Draco pouted, ready to protest about his so-called _wife_ being a lying, cheating slag when Harry lifted a hand to stop him.

"Draco, she told me I should reach out to you -- before she went missing..."

" _Hm?_ " Well that was unexpected.

"--And it's not that I feel like I owe it to her, it's just... I want to make sure she's alive and ok, you know? Before... I don't know..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepishly.

Harry ' _didn't know'_. And he probably wouldn't know until they found his sodding wife. Draco sighed.

"Ok, move along then. -- To the side!" He shooed Harry out of the line of sight of the floo as he threw the green powder into the flames and knelt onto the hearth.

"Z&M International!" he shouted and soon found himself looking into the small office where Alexandra sat packing up her things for the day.

"Alexandra!" She started and he shot her an apologetic smile. "I'm glad I caught you before you left!"

"Mr. Malfoy, sir! How was your meeting yesterday?" she asked, walking over to sit down daintily in front of the hearth on her end.

"It was great! Thank you for arranging it on such short notice. Harriet Peppercorn from the Department of International Magical Cooperation was actually quite eager to hear about our new Quidditch ventures." Draco had been left totally surprised when he walked into the meeting preparing to talk out of his arse for thirty minutes and walked out of it with a new investor and the door open for future ministry investments. He silently prayed that this whole kidnapping thing wasn't going to send the whole damn house of cards tumbling because he'd probably have to obliviate Blaise out of his misery and commit him to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's, if so. Speaking of Blaise... "Any word from Blaise, yet?"

"Yes! He managed to floo me this morning -- from your place, actually!"

"From _my_ place?" He screwed up his face, nonplussed.

"Yes -- apparently, he flew by broom from New Zealand to Australia -- He mentioned something about an owl you sent him. Anyways, he asked me to get him the next portkey home. There weren't any until Sunday morning their time, I'm afraid. I don't think I've ever seen him look so distressed, though..." She shook her head.

"Ok..." he said, wheels turning. "Ok, Alex, I need to talk to Blaise but, in the meantime, can you schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning with Hristofor, that Bulgarian bloke from Sunday?" He'd seemed the denser of the two. _And_ the less menacing. 

"Draco, can't it wait? Third night this week you lot have keep me late and I've got tickets to see The Wierd Sisters!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'll personally take you to their next recording party if you see this through."

She smirked, victoriously, and he had to force himself not to roll his eyes again. 

"Please let him know that we're missing one of his signatures on the contract and it's paramount that he sign it in person to be eligible for any payouts. You'll be able to reach me here until morning."

"Got it!" she said, still beaming at having conned him into their little agreement when she ended the call.

He stood to grab another handful of the green powder and called out for his Melbourne home. Soon, he was looking out into the familiar, panoramic views of his sitting room.

"Blaise! Blaise, are you there?"

A lump on his couch roused and Blaise Zabini sat up in a frenzy.

"Draco! Thank the Gods! Wait, are you at the Manor?" he asked with a furrowed brow. "Nevermind -- Draco, what in the bloody hell is going on?! I got your owl about Ginny and I've been trying to get home ever since! Then, I finally make it this far and _this_ arrives... Draco, is this _you_?"

He held up the same _Breaking News_ edition of _The Daily Prophet_ that Father had shown them. Draco blushed handsomely but avoided the question.

"Blaise, do you trust me?"

Blaise paused.

Draco rolled his eyes. He didn't know what he'd expected. Trusting another Slytherin _fully_ would be unwise, for anyone. He rephrased, carefully.

"You know that I--" He glanced briefly to where Harry stood, off to the side, and swallowed dryly. "Love Potter, right?"

Blaise screwed up his face, incredulously.

"Look, Draco, I don't give a fuck if you love the crust between his toes, if he hurt Ginny --"

He watched Harry bristle and make to move but Draco shook his head minutely, imploring him not to.

"Blaise, you get that it is in my best interest that Ginevra be alive and well so that Harry's name can be cleared, they can get their divorce, and I can actually stop being a mopey, self-loathing prick and just be with the man that I've loved for all this fucking time?" His voice cracked.

He hadn't meant to cry, he hadn't even thought to -- but as the words came out and he realized their truth, he found himself sobbing, uncontrollably. Blaise looked taken aback, worried even.

Before he knew it (and despite his warnings), Harry was sitting down beside him in front of the fire and pulling him into his arms. He sobbed against Harry's chest, feeling mortified but unable to stop it -- the day's events and years worth of denial finally catching up to him. Soft lips pressed into his hair and then he felt Harry's voice vibrate as he spoke into the fire.

"Zabini, there are so many angry, hurtful things that I want to say to you -- that I've dreamed of saying to you for a long time -- But they'll have to wait because, right now, I need your help."

Blaise scoffed, "Why in the fuck would I help _you,_ Potter?! And how do I know that you didn't hurt her and just brainwash my mate?!"

Harry sighed, exhausted.

"You can't. But we need to find Ginny and I know that you want that as badly as I do. I can't make you believe me, but I would never hurt Ginny." He shook his head. "I can't hate that she loves you, or you her. _This_. This right here--" He gestured between he and Draco. "Is all the proof I need to know that you can't help who you love. What I did hate were the lies and the disrespect and the pretending... So tell me, Zabini, why would I choose to hurt her when she finally told me the truth?"

Draco, having finally found his bearings, sat up in time to see Blaise visibly trying to work through Harry's logic.

"Zabini, I have been set up. The acting Head Auror has been imperiused, the ministry has stopped searching for her, and whoever _does_ have her is extremely dangerous. If we don't find Ginny alive -- and soon -- no one will. And then my life as I know it is over. I don't gain from this!"

Blaise continued to scowl. Long moments went by before he finally spoke. 

"I'm only trusting you because Ginny would have. And, for some reason, Draco does, too." He shot Draco a wary look before he finally softened. "Look, Potter -- I know it's no comfort to hear but I really _do_ love her. I'll even go against my better judgement and _apologize--_ " He winced. "--for _how_ it happened... But regardless, she's my best friend and I just want her back. What can I do?"

Harry sighed.

"We need to know what happened on Sunday night; if anything stood out?"

Blaise raised his thick brow. "Are you sure you want to know _those_ details, Potter?"

Draco felt Harry stiffen beside him and decided to intervene. "The Bulgarians, Blaise."

"What?" He screwed up his face in confusion.

"Did you see the Bulgarians?" Draco insisted.

"Yes, but -- Wait, are you saying they had something to do with this?"

Draco nodded.

" _Merlin_. Ginny knew." He looked at his feet and shook his head. When he looked back up, his brow was troubled. "Potter, I didn't see you and Ginny enter the restaurant. I left the table before Draco and the others to use the gentlemen's room and, when I went back to collect my cloak, you and Ginny were sitting at the table in front of where we had sat, you with your back to me, and Ginny looking right at me. She had promised she would give you the papers and... I couldn't resist! I sat back down to see if she would..."

Harry frowned.

"So... she wasn't looking at the lamp, then. Merlin, right in front of my face." He shook his head, sadly.

"When she actually did it... Oh, I could hardly believe it! When she left, I ran outside as soon as I could. She had waited and she was crying but she smiled because she was finally going to be free! Free from the lying, and the cheating, and the disrespect that she hated just as much as you did, Potter! She hated hurting you but always feared that she would hurt you worse by telling you the truth!"

Draco sighed heavily, "Ok, _ok_. We get it! You both want to dress it up in feeling words." He bit his tongue. Apparently they were all choosing to pussyfoot around calling the whole toxic situation out for the rubbish that it was but, as far as he was concerned, they could bond over messy entanglements another day. "What about the Bulgarians?"

Blaise gave him a pointed glare before he continued.

"Well, Oblansk's guys were still there! Outside of the restaurant! I didn't think much of it, thought they might be, I don't know, debriefing about the meeting or something. I was just so happy that I wished them a goodnight and apparated us to the flat. But, then, we saw them again!"

Harry and Draco exchanged a look.

"We were walking up the front steps and we heard an apparition crack. I didn't pay it that much attention; we were _finally_ going to get to... She had been so convinced that the Gods had punished her after the first time that we hadn't... And I had to catch my portkey in a few hours and so..." Blaise looked flustered. " _Ehrm-hrm_. Suffice it to say, I was a bit eager..."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"The _point_ , Blaise."

"Ehrm... Yes -- Well, Ginny was the one who spotted them at the end of the street. We were confused and she wanted to confront them, but I insisted that it was ok -- that they were probably just lost or something."

"And then you just left her there, by herself, to catch your portkey?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Blaise winced and gave him a rueful smile. "The flat is heavily warded! _We_ can't even apparate in or out. We set it up that way when we moved there after the war and Draco kept getting death threats."

Concerned green eyes were immediately on Draco. He placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Those were frightening times, but they were ok now.

"They couldn't get into the flat so they waited at her job. She recognized them and redirected," Draco deduced. "Why though? Blaise, who are these guys? Do they have a bone to pick with you? They knew where you lived, where to apparate..."

Blaise shook his head. "I don't see why they would, the inauguration was the first time I'd met either of them and we hadn't even conversed until Sunday's meeting so I hadn't even had a chance to offend them..."

"Ok, well we're going to see if we can find out what's what from the source. Blaise, we'll update you with what we find before your portkey leaves."

He nodded and the floo ended.

Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder, exhausted and thoroughly depleted.

"Harry, are you ok?"

There was a long silence. Draco didn't really know what to say. After several long minutes, Harry finally spoke.

"Draco, _you_ told me about Ginny and Blaise -- years ago."

Draco turned to aim a questioning brow at him, confused. 

"The flowers," he breathed. Draco eyed him, searchingly. "You've sent me flowers for practically every important event in my life since we parted ways: When I graduated training, when I got engaged, when I got married, and... when Ginny lost the baby. The very next day, in fact."

He fixed Draco with piercing green eyes. Draco swallowed.

What had started off as Draco wanting to have a unique and heartfelt way to memorialize those who had touched him or he had wronged during the war had resulted in him incidentally becoming quite the horticulturalist. He always sent them anonymously, though, and plants and flowers weren't really the sort of things that people usually associated with Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater. He wasn't all together shocked that Harry had figured that part out but...

"How did flowers give it away, then?" he asked, gently reaching up to free Harry's long hair from the elastic and then rubbing his fingers through soft, black hair. 

Harry leaned into the touch for a moment and then smiled ruefully.

"We never told anyonethat we were pregnant -- not in our circle, at least. We'd agreed not to until the baby was full term." Harry shook his head. "The fact that you knew at all meant that you could've only found out from one person and, according to her, he was supposedly not in her life anymore."

"Shite."

Harry shook his head. 

"There was only one plausible reason why she would have run to Blaise Zabini first, of all people, or why you might send me flowers when she _lost_ the baby instead of when she gotpregnant..." He swallowed. "You weren't sure who's it was, were you?"

Draco sighed and then shook his head, solemnly. 

Draco had been so confused when Blaise showed up on his New York doorstep two and a half years ago, completely distraught. He had taken a redeye portkey straight there after Ginny Potter had told him that she was pregnant. Blaise had insisted that he and Ginevra had only given in to temptation just the _one_ time... insisted that the odds were low... But still...

Draco hadn't known what the fuck to do -- with any of that. He couldn't bring himself to rightfully feel too badly for his friend or the Weaselette, but his heart broke for Harry who hadn't deserved to have to deal with any of it.

Two months later, when Ginny told Blaise that she had miscarried, Draco had felt the briefest feeling of relief that disaster was avoided, followed by shame for feeling relieved, quickly followed by deep sadness for Harry. He remembered Harry talking about wanting a real family one day and could only imagine how devastated the unsuspecting bloke must feel. So he went out into his garden and lovingly crafted a bouquet that he hoped expressed his sympathies and made Harry feel loved, even if he didn't know for sure who it was from. What he couldn't have anticipated was that no one was supposed to bloody know. 

"Shite," he repeated. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'd had my suspicions that something was amiss long before that. Owl correspondences that I too willingly made excuses for... I'm just very good at avoiding things like that..."

"If you knew, then why did you stay?" Draco had been wondering that for so long. It just didn't make sense -- Harry didn't even have the same pureblood traditions to get past. 

Harry hung his head. When he looked up again, there was deep sadness there. 

"Draco, in my experience, people die and people leave you and those are pretty much the only guarantees in life." Draco felt a twinge of guilt at that: he had left Harry, too. "What I wasn't prepared for is what happens when someone stays but they cheat. I just had no framework for it. All I knew was that I couldn't handle another loss so I was willing to go along with it -- to be blind."

Draco felt as if his heart were breaking for this beautiful, _good_ man who he knew deserved the world.

"Harry... Look at me." He reached out to tilt Harry's chin when he made to duck his face, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You deserve so, so much more than that. You deserve to know that you are loved and to have actions that actually back it up. I'm so sorry that _I_ couldn't back it up all those years ago."

"Draco... No... You gave me a choice!"

Draco swallowed thickly.

"Harry, that was a shite choice I gave you -- How about we stop pretending that it wasn't?" he said, staring earnestly into sad, emerald eyes. "I asked you to decide whether or not I should risk losing my family. I've done a lot of regretful things in my life but that was, perhaps, the most cowardly. I should've worked that part out so that the only choice you should've had to have made was: 'Do you really want to try and make it work with this sorry arse death eater?'"

Harry made a choked sound and Draco pulled him close.

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't ready. Do know that there hasn't been a single day after that I haven't regretted it. I love you, Harry." He kissed the lightning shaped scar on his forehead and Harry whimpered. "I haven't stopped, even for a second. And I'll never stop -- not ever." He shook his head, hoping Harry could feel the weight of his words. 

He shifted to reach for the chain around his neck but hesitated. Surely this was too much... Perhaps selfish? Inappropriate? Foolish? His cheeks flamed but he _needed_ Harry to know how he felt. He lifted the chain over his head, revealing an eternity ring: an intricately carved, goblin-wrought silver band featuring a celtic knot design set with emeralds and rubies.

Harry gasped.

"Draco... I don't know what to say..."

" _Shhh,_ " he hushed and planted another kiss on his forehead. "You don't have to say anything. We're going to find your sodding wife so you can get that blasted divorce and just know that _then_ , you'll have a real choice waiting for you, if you want it," he added, sheepishly. 

He pulled back to place the chain around Harry's neck and Harry looked overcome with emotions as he pressed the ring to his heart.

"Come." Draco nudged at him with his nose. "We've had a long day -- you need some rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I slipped "entanglements" in there. Sorry, I couldn't resist that little teeny tiny bit of 2020 Quarantine humor 😂
> 
> Hope you're enjoying!


	13. The Bulgarian

**Saturday, 27th January, 2007**

_"Ahhhh!!!_ "

_"Oh, will you calm the fuck down?! Haven't you ever seen a house elf before?!"_

Harry blinked back into large, round, blue eyes as a half-sleep, very cranky Draco shifted beside him. He removed the arm that had been draped over Harry's chest and grumpily grabbed the towering tray of food from the house elf. Harry felt around on the nearby nightstand for his glasses and quickly jammed them onto his face to better survey the situation.

The house elf stood there bouncing, excitedly, a foot from where Harry lay in Draco's childhood bed. The bedroom, a time capsuled ode to the young boy that Harry had known, was filled to the brink with green and silver decor, pictures from Draco's time at Hogwarts, moving posters of fit, long-retired quidditch players that littered the walls, and a closet full of expensive, posh, preppy clothes. They both wore pairs of his old pajamas that he'd transfigured to fit them now, but they were the smooth, soft, fine silk kind and Harry couldn't help wonder what type of 16- year-old boy would even have these? He snorted, answering his own question as he gazed at the man next to him whose long, flowing hair and pouty lip made him look all the part of a spoiled prince. He zipped his mouth shut at the look Draco gave him. 

"Thank you, Riply." Draco nodded curtly to the elf.

"Oh, why, yes, Master Draco! Mistress Narcissa made it special for you and your guest!"

Draco quirked a sceptical brow and examined the plate of chocolate chip pancakes closely, lifting them with a fork to check in between.

"Mother _cooked_ these?" Riply nodded. "For... both of us?" More nodding.

He reached for his wand. _"Revelio!"_

"What, you think she'd poison you?" Harry asked, eying the tray of food sideways, too, just as relieved as Draco when nothing happened.

Draco shook his head.

"Me? No... I don't _think_ so, at least." He shrugged and took a bite of one of the sausages.

Harry's jaw dropped, indignantly. "But you think she'd poison _me_?!"

Draco smirked and then passed the plate his way. Harry frowned at it but then his stomach growled.

"Eat, it's fine," he assured. "Mother just does that. She'll do or say something awful and then get scared that I'll leave her for good and then she'll do something nice and unexpectedly motherly like knit me something or make me my favorite meal. It's positively manipulative, of course, but, at least I get the good stuff," he said, doing a little happy dance as he savored his bite of pancakes.

Harry took a bite of the pancakes, too. 

"Chocolate chip pancakes are your favorite meal?" he smirked.

Draco blushed in response.

"Shut it, Potter. --Thank you, Riply. Can you please make a trip to the potion stores in the east wing and bring me a supply of the basics for our travels? Also... Tell mother I said 'Thank you' for the breakfast," he added, sheepishly.

Riply disappeared with a loud crack, leaving the two of them alone. 

Harry found it hard not to stare at the beautiful, angelic looking man beside him between bites. He was still half-convinced that he was dreaming -- which made sense, he supposed, considering how often Draco Malfoy had consumed his dreams in the past five and a half years. But, now, he was here. Now, he had risked his own life to save Harry's arse. Now... he had just as good as proposed... And the thought of actually, truly having the chance at a life with this man... 

Harry licked his lips, his mouth suddenly too dry as his hooded eyes dropped down to the curve of Draco's, long, elegant neck and he swallowed. He was so close... He could just lean over and...

He shook his head, trying to focus: find Ginny first! 

It had been easy to behave last night: they were so incredibly exhausted from the week's events that they'd both knocked out as soon as their heads touched the pillow. They'd slept straight through the night despite the fact that it was only 6pm when they'd gone to bed. 

But now, Harry's traitorous mind kept fantasizing about Draco taking over in that bossy, assertive, possessive way that he had when they'd made love. He swallowed as his eyes traveled lower to the tent in Draco's pajama pants and he blushed fiercely at the thought that, right now, he would like _nothing_ more than to choke on the beautiful cock waiting just beneath the thin fabric. 

Harry blushed harder when an involuntary moan escaped his lips, causing Draco to smirk and direct a raised brow in his direction. 

When Draco spoke, it was low and rough with want, his grey eyes darkening. 

"Harry, you know I'm going against my every natural instinct to try to respect your wishes but..." He reached out and palmed Harry's chin in one hand, squeezing his cheeks so that his lips puckered and parted. "When you make sounds like that..."

He rubbed a thumb gently across Harry's bottom lip and Harry's breath caught. 

_"Fuck..."_

A tapping sound startled them apart and they both cursed under their breath when they saw the tawny owl waiting outside the large bay window. 

Draco stood and crossed the room to let the bird in, but it flew directly to Harry. The mood shifted quickly and Harry held his breath, realizing who it must be from. Suddenly, he felt terrified of what news it may bring...

Draco joined his side as he shakily untied the parchment from the owl's leg. Draco took his hand in his and Harry took a deep breath as he unfolded the note to find the now familiar handwriting:

**_What a daring little escape that was. Perhaps I underestimated the Great Harry Potter. Well, I can assure you that Ginny here is not impressed by your little stunt, not one bit. You know, she's a stubborn little thing, tenacious. Hard to break. But the way she screamed and begged last night..._ **

**_Your ministry dogs have already been called so I'm sure you'll be encountering them soon enough. If you'd like to finally end this, then send me the location of the fucking wand!_ **

Harry crushed the note in his hand and swallowed hard. Draco's hand squeezed his. 

"She's still alive, Harry. We _will_ find her," he assured. But then his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of something. "Harry... what wand?"

Just then, Riply reappeared with a loud crack.

"Master Draco got a floo message!"

They both sat up straight.

"Well? What did it say, then?"

"Miss Alexandra said that it has been arranged. Master Draco's associate has agreed to meet in one hour and Riply wrote down the address!"

Fierce determination coursed through Harry's veins as he took the little slip of paper on which the address of a place in Appleby was scribbled. This guy was an arrogant, fucking prick. Let him send all the bullshite cryptic messages he wanted, Harry was coming for him and he planned to destroy him when he found him.

* * *

"So what's our strategy?"

"Just take me to him."

Draco eyed his hoodie with disdain and handed him a hooded cloak. Harry rolled his eyes but took it.

"Yes, but... when we get there, should I maybe... survey the scene first since they don't know that I'm involved? I could actually meet with him and talk business to make sure no one else is there or to distract him."

Draco prattled on as he packed his bag -- charmed with an undetectable extension charm -- full of food, supplies, and clothing in case this turned into a long endeavor. 

Harry didn't expect it to take long, however. He needed to end this. Now. 

He shook his head, ignoring all of Draco's nervous rambling, and stared confidently into grey eyes before firmly reiterating: "Just. Take me. To him."

* * *

At half past 10, Draco apparated them to a frozen lake surrounded by what was probably lush farmland in the warm weather months on one side and a village full of sandstone houses on their side. He drew the hood of his cloak closely around his face and looked around them vigilantly. Appleby had a close-knit wizarding community and they couldn't afford to be spotted. Harry followed suit. 

"Ok, so I'll--"

"Stay behind me," Harry demanded. 

"But! But-- _Harry_!" Draco sputtered, horrified and glued to the spot as Potter just marched straight up to the front door of the nearest home without a plan in sight. He jumped when the door wandlessly blew off its hinges as Harry approached and barged on in. 

" _Fuck!_ " he exclaimed as he ran after him, wand held tightly. 

"Vat in the fuck?!" Hristofor rounded a corner. 

He looked pissed!

Harry dodged a curse from the man's wand and Draco flattened against the nearest wall as it ricocheted his way. 

Harry frowned murderously and cracked his neck before wandlessly sending the beefy man flying backwards against the opposite wall. The room shook, furniture was upturned, and portraits fell as Harry marched up to Hristofor, who now lay in a heap eying the wand that had flown just out of reach. 

"WHERE IS SHE?"

"Vat?! Malfoy!" he said, setting pleading eyes on Draco. "Vat is this?"

"Ginevra Potter," Draco clarified. 

The man looked confused but then winced in pain as Harry somehow made the man curl in on himself. 

"Oh, so _now_ you don't know every damned thing? What's the matter? Not so fucking brave outside of your bloody owl posts?!"

Hristofor groaned as his back cracked, audibly, from being squeezed. 

" _Harry..._ " Draco warned, afraid of what might happen if he didn't calm down and get a handle on himself.

Harry took a deep breath and dropped his hold on the man, nodding at Draco. He walked away and raked his fingers through his hair as he tried to ground himself. Draco kept his wand steady as he aimed it at Hristofor's chest. 

"Ginevra Potter: The girl that you stalked, chased, and kidnapped. Where is she?"

"Kidnapped?! I svear, I know not vat you are referring! If you mean the red haired girl, Sebastian simply asked us to retrieve her so they could talk!"

Draco froze.

"What in the fuck did you just say?" His voice was soft and wispy, his throat too dry and his heart having stopped beating in his chest, altogether, only to take up residence in his ears. 

"He just vanted to talk! His girlfriend -- the red haired girl!"

His mind was going absolutely hazy as it tried to make sense of information that just didn't -- _couldn't_ \-- make sense...

Surely, he had misheard... And if not, the world was full of Sebastians, he reminded himself. Of course it had nothing to do with the one bloke he knew by the name that was all the way on another bloody continent. He was being ridiculous, of course. 

"Who is Sebastian?" asked Harry who was back at his side, frowning incredulously.

Hristofor flinched again at the sight of Harry, despite the fact that he was much calmer now. 

"Sebastian Krafft!" 

_Bollocks._

Draco felt as if the room were spinning at the man's confirmation. But, of course -- with his stupid fucking luck, there were hardly ever any coincidences. 

"He's an old friend from Durmstrang!"

What?

"Sebastian went to _Durmstrang_?" he asked from somewhere far, far away as his mind was still malfunctioning as it tried to process information so at odds with everything he knew about the Australian man who'd befriended him. 

The Sebastian he knew wasn't a threat. In fact, the biggest reason Draco found it hard to take the man seriously was because he was just like every other man that was too enthralled with him for whatever superficial reason that made him the desire of their fantasized conquest: easy to manipulate. It was amazing what men would do to in an attempt to have some claim to his beauty or riches or power or fame. Tell them no and they beg. Tell them what to do and they jump. Put them in their place when they act tough and they're putty in your hands. Draco knew the type and Sebastian was the type. Perhaps it was because the one man he'd ever loved was only ever impressed by whether or not he was being a good person and had never been afraid to call him on his shite, but Draco found Sebastian's type to be quite boring in its predictability. But kidnapping? Extortion? Endangering little old ladies? So much for predictable!

"Wait, Draco -- you know this man he's talking about?!"

Draco handed Harry his wand and went to sit on the one sofa that hadn't been upturned. He placed his face in his hands. 

"Sebastian told us that he vuld guarantee that ve got an audience vith the famous Draco Malfoy for the deal of a lifetime if only ve could bring him the girl! He arranged for us to sit vith his business partner at the inauguration and told us ve just had to get Oblansk onboard."

Draco groaned into his hands. He had told his so-called _"friend"_ so much about Harry and even Blaise and Ginny over the past year or so of their friendship. Now that he thought about it, the man _had_ become overly curious about the lot of them as of late... And, come to think of it... all of the drunken conversations about Harry had almost always been started by Sebastian...

"He told us that he had a plan to get the girl alone at the restaurant after the meeting. But then your partner joined her and ve didn't know what to do! Ve flooed Sebastian and he told us to try the Quidditch pitch and locker room in Holyhead. Something veird happened vit the floo but Sebastian was able to track her and tell us where to go."

_What?_

He lifted his head to see Harry look just as baffled. What the man was describing shouldn't have even been possible at all, but from all the way in Australia?

"Was... Was Sebastian _here_?" He frowned.

The Bulgarian man nodded. "Vhen ve found her ve gave her dreamless sleep and brought her back here. He retrieved her."

"But he... he was waiting for me..." he breathed, eyes wide and pupils blown as he tried to connect the dots.

"Draco?"

He sighed and placed his head in his hands again, not wanting to see Harry's disappointment or watch the moment that he decided to hate him for the rest of his life. And to think, he'd just had plans to propose.

"Harry, Sebastian is one of my investors in Australia. He'd... turned into more of a friend but... None of this makes any sense. _None of it!_ Least of all, the fact that this all supposedly happened late Monday morning, early afternoon... _In England_... But my portkey back to Australia left here at 1pm London time and he was waiting for me there, in Australia, at customs." He left out: _'To seduce me'._

There was a long moment of silence.

"Draco... Why would your friend be doing this?"

Draco shook his head, still in his lap. Finally he looked up and the expression on Harry's face was carefully blank. "I haven't the slightest idea, Harry -- I swear! It's just... he was the only one I could talk to about you because he grew up so far away and he didn't know about all the _Choosen One_ crap or fully understand my past and he just always seemed so interested to know!" he rattled off, somewhat defensively.

Harry blinked back at him, processing. Finally, he pointed Draco's wand at Hristofor, still crumpled over feet away, and silently cast a full-body bind. Then he came to stand in front of Draco and cast _muffliato_ around them.

"Draco..." His brow was worried with concern. "Did you tell him about the Elder Wand?"

Draco's eyes widened. "What?! You think he's doing all of this for a fabled wand?!"

"I know he is and it isn't fabled." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"What? Harry, what are you saying?"

"Draco, love, I need you to focus, please. What did you tell him about the Elder Wand?"

His tone was urgent but calming and Draco nearly melted at the sound of the warm diminutive. Ok, maybe Harry didn't _fully_ hate him. Yet. 

"Well... Merlin, this was so long ago... Maybe six months ago or so... We were all out day-drinking at an Oceana Wizarding Pride event and he was talking about Gregorovitch, the famous wand maker, and I told him that we have Ollivander back at home. I remembered the odd encounter we had with him on that case we worked and shared the bit about the Elder Wand as a farce... Salazar, why would I ever think that was _real_?! And, he might've seemed intrigued in the moment but he never mentioned it again! I suppose he did become a little more curious about what was going on with _your_ life after, come to think of it." He screwed his face up in thought.

"Oh, great. Another power hungry ego-maniac taking an interest in my life." Harry rolled his eyes and then reached out to pull Draco up onto his feet and into his arms. 

"You're not mad?" Draco asked sceptically.

"Oh no -- whoever this prick is used you, hurt Ginny, and is actively trying to tear my life apart. I'm livid," he said, pulling Draco closer and planting a kiss in his hairline. "But at least now we _finally_ have something real to work with."

Draco beamed back at him and nodded. 

"Now what are we going to do with this bloke?" Harry pointed a thumb in Hristofor's direction. "He'll probably just run straight to his friend or the other one when we let him go..."

"Take him to the ministry? He _would_ be able to cop to taking Ginevra..." 

Harry shook his head. "As long as Robards is imperiused, it wont matter."

Well... That only left one thing, didn't it? He grabbed his wand from Harry and made quick work of replacing the door, uprighting the furniture, and re-hanging the portraits. He ended the _muffliato_ and undid the the binds.

The man stretched his limbs gingerly and frantically eyed his wand a few feet away.

Draco sighed.

_"Obliviate!"_

Hristofor's expression went blank for a moment and then it looked confused.

"Oh... Malfoy!" he said, getting to his feet and looking around himself, nonplussed. "My apologies, I didn't hear you come in. Did you bring the forms?"

"Yes, I have them right here," Draco said, easily, forcing a smile as he pulled out a document from his bag.

"I vander vhy I feel so achy." The large man frowned as he stretched his neck.

"Well, by the looks of those big, strong, muscles, I'd say you've clearly been working out... I'm sure you probably just overexerted yourself," he bullshited then shot Harry a wide-eyed, furtive glance and shrugged as the confused man smiled back toothily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I've no idea how to convey a Bulgarian dialect besides following JK's lead from the books and replace Ws with Vs 😅. Apologies if that reads weird!
> 
> But: SOME ANSWERS!!! (Only some, keep reading for more 😉). Did anyone guess that twist?? 🤔


	14. The Forgotten Detail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that there a couple of things that might make you raise an eyebrow (Draco style) if you haven't read the prequel, Draco Hearts Spice Girls and Harry Potter. Here's some info that will be helpful to know for this chapter if you haven't read DHSGAHP:
> 
> Draco got introduced to Muggle Pop Music in DHSGAHP and discovered he had a surprising affinity for the stuff (pop Divas in particular). Harry burnt him a mixtape as a farewell (it was 2001, people still did that lol).
> 
>   
> Also, earlier, in chapter 2 here, when Harry was dreaming of making love to Draco under a beautiful sunset before he was awoken by Ginny, he was dreaming of a memory of what took place the last time they'd seen each other in DHSGAHP on "Draco's Hill".

"Ok, so where next?" Draco asked as they stepped onto the cobbled street.

Harry had barely had a moment to ponder the question before they felt the cool, tell-tale sensation of a spell whooshing over them.

Draco nudged him with an elbow and pointed to where Jensen stood, smirking, a few houses down.

"Oh great! Somebody must've seen us when you _blew the door to smithereens!_ " Draco hissed before grabbing Harry's hand and trying to disapparate.

" _Fuck._ Anti-disapparition jinx."

" _Draco Malfoy?!_ Oh-ho-ho! Well this is fascinating!" Jensen lit up with glee. Draco folded his arms and scowled in response. "So the rumors are true, Potter? You _are_ a poof? Well, I must say I'm more surprised that you have a thing for Death Eaters."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We're just trying to find Ginny. I don't want to hurt you but if you're more intent on hunting me than finding Ginny, then I'll have no choice."

Jensen scoffed.

"Oh, please. There's a whole team of us here, there's nowhere to run, Potter. And, by the looks of it, you're still wandless and I've got a bone to pick with that one," he said, shooting a jinx at Draco that he easily blocked. "I was on the loo well into this _morning_ \-- in case you were wondering."

He said, firing rapid fire shots at the two of them, forcing them to dodge and block.

"Draco, run!" Harry said as he hit Jensen with a wandless jinx that pushed him over the edge of the bank. They heard a loud splash followed by a string of expletives as he hit the icy waters and they ran in the opposite direction.

They sped around a corner where a market place full of merchants and bargain hunting muggles was visible in a nearby square.

"Hey!" Reynolds shouted as he turned onto the street. Draco aimed a jelly-legs jinx that left him scrambling to stand upright.

"Sorry!" Harry shouted to his friend/colleague as he pushed Draco towards the market. "Take off your cloak and robes!" he yelled as he worked to undo his own. He made to ball them up before they reached the market but Draco tsked and pointed his wand so that they folded neatly and floated into his bag.

"Those are good quality robes, you barbarian!"

Harry merely rolled his eyes and dragged Draco over to a vender cart where he'd spotted a baseball cap and a black wig.

"Here, put this on!"

"No, Harry, that's not going to--" Draco protested when Harry haphazardly placed the wig on his head.

Harry's jaw dropped when the wig turned the same shade of white blonde as Draco's.

"What in the??" 

" _Just give me a hat,_ " he huffed.

Harry laughed and handed him a black Metallica beanie and black leather jacket that made him look more metal than was proper for a Malfoy.

"Now, all you need is a pair of Doc Martens," Harry snorted as he let his own long hair down and pulled the bill of his hat low over his scar before slipping on a frayed jean jacket.

"What? Harry, now is not the time for doctors -- more Aurors!"

Harry followed his gaze to see Proudfoot craning her neck over the crowds on one end of the square and turned to see Savage doing the same at the opposite end.

"Keep your head down. We just need to lay low until the disapparition jinx wears off and it shouldn't be much longer now. That way." He handed the shop keep some notes and nodded towards the only exit to the square that they hadn't seen an Auror stationed.

They had nearly made it out before Stevens apparated out of thin air to block their path. Draco instinctively raised his wand and pointed it at her but Harry reached out to make him lower his arm. Instead, he fixed her with a determined gaze.

"Audrey, we _have_ to find Ginny. If you haven't worked it out by now, Robards has been imperiused." Her eyes widened with comprehension. "You _know_ there's no hope for her unless we do this."

She swallowed thickly but stood aside without another word.

They jogged past her and off down the nearest street.

They had made it about eight blocks away from the market when Draco slowed in front of a shop from which music was flowing.

"Oooh! Harry, can we wait in here?"

Harry was about to argue that it wasn't wise but then the endearing look of excitement on his face tugged at his heart.

Harry looked up at the hot pink sign above the store: an HMV store. _Of course._ He smiled wryly as Draco bounced on the balls of his feet and he sighed as he gave in and held the door open for him.

"I wonder if they have Janet?" he said and Harry tried not to laugh as he gravitated towards the wall of CDs dedicated to pop divas while still dressed in the Metallica gear.

Harry's eyes were caught by a collection of vinyls and it reminded him of the Celestina Warbeck case.

As far as he knew, the attacks had stopped when he got arrested. Clearly, they had been a ploy in this guy Sebastian's set up plan, which was... just plain sick, quite frankly.

He remembered Dung insisting that some strange, foreign guy with an accent had told him to pass along the information to him. He'd bet anything that the accent was an Australian one. He frowned as he remembered a forgotten detail:

Didn't he say there had been _"A_ _lady with a different, funny accent,"_ there, too?

If only he could talk to Dung....

He was just contemplating his options when movement out of the corner of his eye made him do a double take. Draco, donning a pair of the big, bulky, sample headphones, had just spun around and dipped down and back up with some sort of bend and snap move.

" _Strum me like, a guitar, blow out my amplifi-er! When you hear some feedback, keep going take it high-er! Crank it up, give it to me, come on! Crank it up, give it to me, come on! I'm gonna feedback, feedback! Oh! Feedback, feedback! Oh!_ " he sung a little too loudly over the headphones.

Harry leaned against a display case and smiled brightly as he watched him move, rhythmically, eyes closed, and -- despite the fact that he was literally risking _everything_ for Harry -- not a care in the world. He really did love this beautiful, sexy, ever surprising man.

Draco finished his song and then made his way to Harry with nervous excitement in his eyes and something in his hand.

"Harry, can you buy me this with your muggle money?" he asked holding out a copy of the _Feedback_ album.

Harry smiled. "And what are you going to play this on?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"What do you mean?" he asked as he reached into his bag and pulled out the portable CD player.

Harry's breath hitched and he looked up into grey eyes with awe.

"You kept it?" Harry whispered.

"Of course I did... I listen to it every day -- I even got one of those big stereo CD player things so it can play throughout my house and not just in my ears."

Harry gasped when he realized what he meant. He reached out a tentative hand to undo the clasp on the player and felt his heart warm with all the feelings he had carefully guarded himself against for all this time as the mix tape he'd made Draco stared back at him.

He placed one hand on either side of Draco's face and kissed him, full on. Draco looked surprised by the sudden action and even more surprised to see Harry's eyes bright with un-shed tears.

Draco returned the CD player to his bag and kissed him on the cheek.

"We'd better go," he said, reaching for his hand. "We're about to have company."

Harry followed his gaze to find Savage walking past the display window and, by the looks of it, following _Appare Vestigium._

Harry quickly pulled out £10 to leave on the counter for the CD and then they found a deserted corner of the shop to disapparate from just as the bell above the front door chimed.

* * *

_"Kreacher!"_

_"What did you just call m--"_

_**CRACK**_

_"Ahh! Bloody hell!"_

Draco glared at his smirking paramour.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? _Never seen a house elf, before?_ " His eyes glinted impishly. 

"Oh, get stuffed," Draco glowered.

Harry hadn't even had the good grace to wait until their feet were firmly planted on the ground before he had called the most ancient and repulsive-looking house elf Draco had ever seen. 

"Did Master say Malfoy?!" The ' _Kreacher_ ' looked up at Draco with large eyes full of awe and Draco shot Harry a sceptical side eye. 

"Kreacher, focus." Harry commanded. 

" _Oh, now Master wants to call on Kreacher. All these years watching over snotty nose children,_ " the house elf mumbled under his breath as if he didn't expect that anyone would hear him. "Yes, Master?"

Draco raised a brow at Harry who just shrugged and rolled his eyes. 

"It's good to see you, too, Kreacher. Look, I need you to find Mundungus Fletcher, again, and bring him to me."

" _Kreacher would rather lick pavement than to touch that foul, filthy man._ Beg master's pardon?"

"Please, Kreacher? It would be a great help and would make Draco, here, very happy."

"No it woul--" He grimaced when Harry's elbow met his ribs. "Yes, very happy," he said through gritted teeth. 

The house elf lit up and bowed low in his direction. 

"Oh, yes! Kreacher will do anything for a descendant of the House of Black! Kreacher will find the grubby man! Yes!"

He bowed again and then was gone with a loud _crack._

"Harry, what in the bloody fuck is going on?!"

"Draco is this? Is this your hill?" Harry was finally paying attention to his surroundings. He looked out over Wiltshire and then turned, searchingly; a shy smile formed when his eyes found the large beech tree they'd sat under all those years ago.

Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his leather clad arms.

" _Our hill_ ," he answered brusquely before exasperatedly getting back to matters at hand: "First, I travel all this way and you conveniently leave out the fact that the maniac who's doing all of this is looking for a wand? Then, you tell me that the Elder Wand is _real_ and, if I'm meant to believe that to mean that Ollivander is _not_ just a senile old coot, then I suppose I am also to believe that _I_ , too, somehow, _miraculously_ , possessed the thing! And, now, you summon some old, creepy house elf to fetch us a career criminal?! Potter, explain!"

Harry rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, still wearing that ridiculous all denim muggle getup. 

"Erhm... Well... you see..."

"Out with it, Potter." He tapped his foot and fixed Harry with his deadliest raised brow. 

Harry sighed. 

"Draco, have you ever wondered _why_ Voldemort captured Ollivander?"

The question took him by surprise and his guard faltered. He uncrossed and re- crossed his arms. 

Draco tried not to think about those days in the Manor when the Dark Lord had resided and done so many unspeakable things there. The kidnapping of the wand maker was one of the many things that hadn't made much sense to him, at the time. The Dark Lord had taken father's wand, leaving him emasculated and defenseless and, despite all his flaws or their strained relationship, Draco hated to remember him that way. And, honestly, if the stunt hadn't meant that both his mother _and_ father had been left wandless during the Battle of Hogwarts then he probably wouldn't have been so desperate to get _his_ wand back before trying to join them and Crabbe, the stupid lug, might very well be alive today. He'd never been sure if -- oh, fuck it -- _Voldemort's_ decision to take father's wand was just an act meant to embarrass and punish or if there was something actually wrong with his own wand. 

"He was looking for the Elder Wand because our wands were connected and it kept backfiring against him," Harry continued. "When he found out about the Elder Wand, he thought it might be a way to solve the problem and solidify himself as the most powerful wizard in the world."

"....Oh." It was all he could think to say. 

"The information he learned from Ollivander led him to Gregorovitch which led him to Grindelwald which led him to Dumbledore, the last known possessor of the Elder Wand." 

Draco looked at him with wide eyes. Dumbledore: another topic that he didn't very well want to talk about. _Great._

Harry shook his head. "Voldemort broke into Dumbledore's tomb and took the wand, but it wouldn't work for him properly because he hadn't won it. And Dumbledore was no longer its rightful owner because he had been bested before his death."

"Harry..." Draco hung his head, not sure if he could stand to hear any more. 

"And _that_ is why Voldemort killed Severus Snape."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Snape, the man he had revered and respected, was killed over a _wand?_

"The only problem was, Snape wasn't the true possessor of the wand because Dumbledore had been bested _before_ Snape, following Dumbledore's orders, could kill him."

Draco gasped. " _What_?"

He wasn't sure which was more surprising: the _'on Dumbledore's orders'_ bit or....

Grey eyes widened with horror as he caught on to what Harry was insinuating. 

"No. No, I didn't want it! And especially not _that_ way." He shivered and then shook his head frantically. "Harry, I didn't..."

He felt lost and pained. But then he was being pulled into strong arms and inhaling, he realized, his favorite scent in the whole world because it was Harry. Harry planted a soft kiss in his hair. 

"I know, love. I know." He kissed his hair again. "I was there. That night on the tower," he swallowed. 

Draco gasped, again. 

"I saw you lower your wand. I know you didn't want to hurt him. And I also got to watch Snape's memories and see the plan he'd hatched with an already dying Dumbledore: a plan that was meant to protect _you_ and also ensure that Dumbledore would be the master of his own death and that the legend of the Elder Wand would die with him, and so with it, the destruction, chaos, and greed that has also been known to come with it."

"But then I came along and mucked it all up by disarming him." He stared at his loafers but Harry only pulled him closer. 

"Yep -- which actually turned out really fortunate for _me_ because Voldemort's ignorance of that bit meant that he was never truly able to master the wand. In fact, when I disarmed you at the Manor, I unknowingly became the possessor of not only the Hawthorne wand, but also the Elder Wand."

Draco lifted his head and stared up at him with furrowed brow as he remembered Ollivander's words from that day in his shop:

_Long have we known that a wand will yield to whomever defeats its master but, Mr. Potter, your ability to master the two wands, at once, when typically only the wand in use is up for grabs proved that the rules are different when the Elder Wand is involved._

"That plot twist wound up being the reason why the wand was never really able to work for Voldemort and how I was able to use it against him to defeat him." He smiled, triumphantly. "The wand refuses to harm its rightful owner, you see."

"Oh." So maybe some good _had_ come out of his stupidity, afterall. 

He thought on all of that for a moment, trying to make sense of and integrate all the seemingly impossible bits of information.

He screwed his face up incredulously. "Harry, how could the most powerful wand in the world be won so easily by _expelliarmus_?!"

Harry shook his head. "Seems flawed to me, too. My only guess at how two teenagers could have come to possess the thing..." He smiled wryly, making Draco become impatient with anticipation. "We were both prepared to die."

Draco blinked back at him, nonplussed. He couldn't argue with that. He'd spent nearly the whole year after taking the mark and being assigned the task to kill Dumbledore mulling through stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and then, finally, acceptance. By the time he'd actually took to that astronomy tower, he had finally accepted that it was most likely to end in his death; if not at the hands of the old man, then surely at the hands of Voldemort at another point or maybe by the Order... One thing was for certain: he was screwed. And, in that moment, standing before Albus Dumbledore, he had resigned himself to that fate as he prepared to give it a go, regardless.

"I did my research -- well, Hermione did, of course -- and it turns out that the Elder Wand is rumored to have a Thestral hair core and it's believed that only those who are capable of facing death can master it."

"Ah." He smiled, sadly, thinking how unjust it felt that two teenage boys, at opposite sides of a war, had been put in positions where they'd so graciously accepted death and thus been deemed worthy of being its master. He was left with only one question: "So, what happened to the wand?"

"I used it to fix my own wand and then put it somewhere where no one would ever find it and haven't mentioned it in nearly ten years." He shrugged. "I wanted the legend and the temptation and the violence that comes with it to die like Dumbledore had intended. Ron and Hermione are the only ones who've ever known I possessed it in the first place and I never even told _them_ exactly where it was buried."

He buried his head in Harry's chest again and groaned. "But then _I_ went and told a sociopath about it." 

Harry kissed his head again and he thought he felt him smirk against it. 

"I'm afraid so, love. But the most ridiculous part is, this Sebastian bloke is doing all this and I've no idea if I'm even still the owner..." He frowned.

Draco lifted his head at this and raised a brow, questioningly. 

"Well, I became an _Auror._ I duel with people all the time and I've been bested by people loads of times since then... Do you know how many Dark Wizards I've come up against? Who knows if any of them would have been deemed worthy enough..." He shook his head. "Granted, _sure_ , I do usually wind up being the one who winds up capturing my suspects even after they get the upperhand once, but still..."

Draco rolled his eyes both at the humble brag and at the situation. 

"Great. Why is the culprit always connected to _me_ somehow? And then to be maladroit, to boot?" He huffed. 

Harry chuckled but bit his lip, worriedly.

"What is it?"

Harry looked at him and hesitated, clearly debating if he should say something or not. Finally, he sighed.

"Draco, what Ollivander said about us both being the possessors of both wands and rewriting the rules of wandlore and it being miraculous that the wand even recognized me as its master when you technically hadn't lost that one to me or that your wand still worked for you without having to win it back but simply because I gave it to you..."

"Yes?" Draco said in hushed tones. 

"I think... I think Ollivander freaked out and wanted me to see if I could still use your wand that day to see if we could both truly be possessors of the same wand..."

"Ok... And now we know that to be true -- or, at least, that you can borrow _my_ wand," he emphasized. 

There was a long silence as Harry stared back into his eyes. 

"Draco... I think that might also mean that _you_ could still be the possessor of the Elder Wand. I mean, I'm guessing you haven't had too many reasons to duel or be disarmed by anyone _'capable of accepting_ _death'_ as an investment banker..."

Draco frowned and then shook his head adamantly when he finally cottoned on. 

"No. Harry, _no_! I want nothing to do with that thing!" The ties to Dumbledore's death, Voldemort, Snape's misguided demise, centuries worth of death and destruction.... "Harry, I never _ever_ want to wield that thing!"

He was surprised to find Harry's lips on his and his arms wrapped around his waist in what was, for the second time today, complete abandon -- the guards he had carefully kept in place thrown to the side as he kissed pale pink lips sweetly but assuredly. 

"I love you so much, Draco Malfoy," he said when he finally pulled away. 

Draco smiled, sheepishly. He wasn't quite sure how what he had said had brought them to _this_ place but he'd take it. 

"I love you, too, Harry." He smiled warmly, lost in green eyes. 

He reached down and intertwined his fingers with Harry's and tugged. Harry followed him over to the large beech tree whose branches lay bare because of the frost. Harry bent and brushed snow from a spot on the trunk to reveal the letters HP+DM carved into the bark and encased in a heart. He smiled, brilliantly. 

" _Our hill,_ huh?"

Draco nodded, lovingly. 

"You know, I dream about that night all the time? The sunset?"

Draco snorted. "So do I, but why do I doubt that it's the _sunset_ you dream about?"

Harry blushed but leaned in to breath into his ear, all hot and throaty like. "I don't know, Draco, the way the colors reflected off of the cock flushed against your abs was pretty beautiful. Magnificent even. _Breathtaking._ "

Draco's breathing did, indeed, hitch at his words and his trousers suddenly felt a lot tighter.

"You've been around too many Slytherins. _You're_ the one meant to be all breathless and bothered, remember?" he asked as he snaked his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him close. 

Harry stared back at him, pupils blown wide under the bill of his muggle cap and mouth just slightly agape as Draco brought his hand to his front and slowly, _slowly_ crept his fingers along the hard shaft straining against his jeans. 

Harry's breath hitched and his cock jumped causing Draco to smirk. 

"That's more like it," he said as he leant in to capture Harry's lips with his own.

Harry moaned. Draco tested the waters with soft, tentative kisses at first. He had never really believed that Harry's hesitance actually had all that much to do with Ginevra to begin with but, he knew this was still technically _supposed_ to be off limits with the whole _missing wife thing_ still no where near solved. Something had shifted between last night and now, however... Maybe trust that he wouldn't leave? Regardless, it made him wonder... Harry hesitated for the merest of moments before he opened up for Draco, letting his wet tongue slide, sweetly against his. 

Draco sped up the pace and held him tighter. Now that they'd finally given in, it was like each clash of their tongues brought with it the thrill of flying -- no, _soaring_ , more like -- and the complete, utter sense of belonging and _home_. In that moment, Draco realized that he hadn't needed to travel the world in search of his new home. _Harry was his home._

_**CRACK**_

They scrambled to pull apart only to find the ancient house elf struggling with a man who looked more basset hound than man. Draco absently wondered if he may actually have fleas. 

The man eventually stopped swearing and demanding to be unhanded long enough to notice them standing there. 

"Oh... Wotcher, Harry!" Then he aimed his grimey grin towards Draco. "Little Malfoy!"

Draco frowned. For _oh so many_ reasons. 


	15. Truth Potions and Love Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't read DHSGAHP, then it should be noted that Harry understands what's happening to Draco because he had a very similar moment when he'd stepped in to protect Draco in part 1 (even if Draco was blackout drunk at the time and barely remembers it, himself). Ron jokingly told Harry that Dumbledore would've blamed it on "love magic" or something.

"Did'ja know there's a hefty price on your head, Harry? It's all they're talking about in.... certain circles...."

"Well then, I'm very glad you don't know where we are," Harry said, reaching for Draco's wand to cast a quick disapparatition jinx. He didn't need Dung running off to collect whatever bounty the Ministry was offering before they could get answers.

"Aw, Harry, why you gotta do mi like tha'? I thought we was friends?"

"Oh, we are, Dung, which is why I know you well enough to know better." He smiled, smugly. "I just need some quick information about the people you said gave you the Warbeck intel."

"I told you, Harry! I don' know much!"

Draco scoffed. "Well _that's_ not surprising."

Harry shook his head. 

"I just need to know what type of accent. You said there was a man and a woman, can you tell me what type of accents they each had?"

Mundungus' eyes gleamed, opportunistically.

"Wha's it worth to you?"

Harry rolled his eyes 

"Dung, I'm short on time here so I'm _really_ not in the mood to play this game. Now you can either tell me simply because I've been good to you for over ten years or... I'm sure Draco here can just take the information we need -- He's a master legilimens, you know," he lied through his teeth. He felt Draco stiffen beside him. "Just keep in mind that some stupid accents won't be the only secrets we're privy to if we have to take that route..."

Dung's eyes went wide as he processed the possibilities. 

"Harry, Harry, Harry... You know I was only joking!" He smiled, toothily. "The bloke, I believe, was an Aussie fellow -- said 'G'day mate' and everything," he imitated an Australian accent and Draco put his face in his hand. 

"What about the woman?" he asked, eagerly.

"Oh, twas some Indian chick. All business like. She looked righ' out of place in a pub in Yorkshire, she did."

Harry's jaw practically hit the floor as he stared back at Mundungus Fletcher, completely and utterly dumbfounded. 

"Is that all, mate? Only I was in the middle of some -- _ah_... important business..."

He nodded at Kreacher who was still standing there, eyeing Mundungus contemptuously. 

"You can take him back to where you found him and then return to Hogwarts. Thank you, Kreacher. Oh, and give Winky and Headmistress McGonagall my regards."

Kreacher bowed low (despite the fact that Harry still hated that he did that) to he and Draco and he and Dung disappeared.

"Anavi!" he said, immediately turning to Draco who was already fixing him with that perfectly arched eyebrow. 

"Beg your pardon?"

"It's Anavi! Anavi Chopra! But, _of course_! It makes so much sense!" he exclaimed as piece after piece started to fall in place. 

"Harry, slow down -- Are you talking about Robards' secretary?" He looked confused and doubtful.

" _My_ secretary! Draco, think about it: she's the one who would've been in charge of the seating arrangements at the inauguration, she's the one who booked the table at the restaurant last minute without even asking, she's the one that told me to meet with Dung, and she's the one that got 'poisoned' by the Warbeck potion knowing I knew and had the antidote!" How could he be so blind not to see it before?!

"And she would also be able to get close enough to Robards to imperius him..." Draco stroked his chin in thought. "Darn, I always liked that witch."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yea, well you seem to like a lot of people who have " _Destroy Harry Potter's Life_ " at the top of their agenda."

Draco laughed a light, melodic laugh and then kissed away his pout.

"Only because I used to write it out in big, bold letters at the top of mine each day."

* * *

**Saturday, 27th January, 2007**

Anavi Chopra found herself sat in her drawing room that Saturday afternoon with eyes nervously glued to the floo.

She had already chewed her fingernails down to stubs and her carpet looked slightly worn from where she'd intermittently taken to pacing. It had been hours since Robards had informed her of Potter and Malfoy's escape from Appleby and she had been stationed by the floo, hoping for a more _favorable_ update, ever since. Thankfully, she hadn't heard a peep from Sebastian since he'd finished chewing her out for yesterday'sinitial escape which, hopefully, meant that he hadn't yet gotten word of this latest fumble.

Just as she was finally accepting the old anecdote about a watched floo, a strange _clatter_ reached her ears from somewhere in the kitchen. 

"Adhira?" she called out as she sat down the now empty mug of tea she had been nursing and stood. "What have you gotten yourself into, now, you silly cat?"

Needless to say, the witch was beyond surprised to find a bizarre looking gizmo with a horn toddling aimlessly around the legs of her kitchen table instead of her daft cat.

"What in the?" She bent low and examined it with narrowed eyes as it began to let out a thick, billowy cloud of _smoke_ , of all things!

She was just kicking herself for leaving her wand on the coffee table when the thing turned towards her and exploded with a loud _BANG_!

_"Ahhhh!"_

_"STUPEFY!"_

* * *

"See, I told you there is art in subtly, Potter." Draco smiled, smugly, as he appreciated his handiwork.

The still stunned secretary was tied up, neatly, to one of the cushy arm chairs in a rustic drawing room full of brightly embroidered kantha cushions.

Harry rolled his eyes. "An _exploding_ decoy detonator is about as subtle as a sledgehammer."

"A sledge _what_?!" he asked, perplexed.

"Never mind, just wake her already," Harry pressed. He had so many questions that needed answers -- now!

_"Rennervate!"_ Draco chanted and she began to stir.

"Potter!" she shouted, her wide eyes landing on him when she finally came to.

"Anavi... Just....... Why?" It didn't make any sense. Out of all the people he'd worked with, he'd have expected something like this from Jensen or even a disgruntled trainee but... never her. In all these years, he had only ever been nice to the administrative witch who had been such an integral part of their team and she had always been kind to him in return... They'd even exchanged Christmas cards that one year, for Merlin's sake!

"I don't owe you an explanation, Potter." She looked away angrily, tears welling in hazel eyes.

Harry bowed his head. "I don't know if someone that I love and care about is alive or not and yet another person that I trusted has betrayed me... Anavi, I _really_ think you do owe me _at_ _least_ that much."

" _Stop it!_ Stop doing that!" she spat. 

"Doing what?" Harry asked, completely nonplussed. 

"Playing the nice guy! Like you're any different than Robards!" she huffed. "You bureaucratic arseholes are all the same! Yea, sure you're nice now but give it time!"

Harry registered Draco straighten, somewhat protectively, somewhere in his peripheral but Harry's brow furrowed, perplexed, as he stared incredulously at the secretary.

"Is that what you've had to tell yourself to help you sleep at night?"

Anavi bit back a swear.

"It doesn't matter! My time has finally come, Harry! For _ten years_ , I have worked my arse off and been repaid with nothing but being talked down to and disrespected like some sort of ignoramus! Of course you don't get it, you were Robards' pet. So wrapped up in his spell that the Savior never thought to save the secretary! But no matter -- I finally recognize my place in the world and it is much grander than any of you could have ever imagined! Just you wait, you'll see!" It sounded like a well-rehearsed line but she lost her nerve towards the end, her shaky voice betraying her lack of confidence. She doubled down, however, "And I'm sorry if I hurt your little feelings, but you are just a small piece of a _much_ larger picture. Sebastian has shown me the way! Don't take it personal, Potter."

" _Oh_ , cry me a fucking river."

Harry and Anavi both turned towards Draco, shocked by both his words and the sudden shift of energy in the room as he paced back and forth. Draco's patience had been wearing thin from the moment the woman had started talking but, now, he looked absolutely livid. Harry was surprised when the furniture began to shake and, for once, it wasn't him doing it.

"I swear to Merlin, if I have to sit through _one_ more sob story --" Draco stopped his pacing and strode directly in front of Anavi, wandhand twitching at his side. "Answer me this: Did you start feeling like a poor, mistreated damsel before or after you started getting dicked down by Sebastian Krafft?"

"Well, I _never_!" she got out, flustered, her brown cheeks flushed. "Sebastian merely opened my eyes--"

Draco waved a hand, dismissively, and her mouth closed with a clack. Harry looked between the two with a raised brow. _Did he just..._

Draco carried on, seemingly unaware of what Harry was pretty sure to be a subtle act of wandless magic. Harry's mind drifted back to Ron's half-hearted joke from years ago when his own powers seemed to go into overdrive where Draco was concerned. 

"Yes, he can be quite charming, but I wonder... How has _he_ been treating you now that things aren't going so swell?"

She paled and swallowed, hard, refusing to look at him. Draco tsked, his steel-grey eyes narrowing and his voice turning as icy as his gaze. 

"Face it, Chopra: you're only here right now because Sebastian thinks of you as a weak, easily manipulated pissant. He's right, of course." She flinched at his words. "Yes, yes -- we get it... Robards is an obnoxious pig who deserves every bit of misfortune that comes his way but, you'll have to excuse my lack of sympathy for a whiny little cunt who _chose_ to work under a dick for 10 years and _then_ decides to what? Get her revenge by arranging the kidnapping and torture of another woman?!" Draco crossed his arms to try to calm down as the lamp to the right of Anavi exploded.

" _Stop it!_ " she cried and looked to Harry with a silent plea for him to put an end to this. Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"What? Too bitter a pill to swallow?" he cooed, mockingly, his head cocked to one side. Harry hadn't seen this level of coldness in Draco since his misguided Hogwarts years and he was suddenly very appreciative that the cruel boy he'd known had grown up to find himself on the good side of things because, with the added effect of his magic positively buzzing off the walls, it was both awe inducing and terrifying. "Oh, do you want to be _'saved'_ now? Well, the Savior that you so badly seem to want to come to your rescue after you so brashly sought to ruin his life grew up orphaned, abused, malnourished and stalked by a ruthless psychopath!" he growled. Anavi's eyes widened with surprised and a glimmer of regret. " _He_ still managed to not only be a good person but to _save the fucking world!_ But, please, tell me again how your piss poor sense of self-worth is to be pitied," he added dangerously. " _Harry doesn't deserve this!_ " 

A glass case fell over, showering the floor with shards of glass and bits of brassware figurines. Anavi winced and looked to Harry, surprised and terrified. 

"Draco..." His mouth suddenly felt very dry and he fought the lump forming in his throat. He was touched by Draco's protectiveness and slightly embarrassed that Draco even knew those things about him. How in bloody hell _did_ he know? Regardless, the crystal chandelier was rattling dangerously above their heads and Draco needed to calm down. He reached out and pulled him nearer, squeezing him against his side. "It's ok, love."

Draco blinked back at him and the furniture stopped shaking as his rage dissipated.

Anavi hung her head, relieved but defeated.

"Anavi... I really need to know..." Harry swallowed, not quite sure he was ready to ask the question and receive the answer. Draco reached for his hand and squeezed, reassuringly. "Is Ginny still alive?"

She sighed and hesitated for a moment that felt like ages.

"Yes," she said, thickly, tears streaming down her face. 

Harry sagged with relief and Draco wrapped an arm around his waist just to make sure he didn't actually fall. 

"But Sebastian still needs the wand and he's not going to give her to you unless you hand it over," she continued. "Why won't you just give it to him already and end this?!"

Harry shook his head. "That's not an option. Where's Ginny?"

"I don't know," she said, avoiding their gaze. 

He sighed, already feeling so very, very tired and heavy. The thought of having to interrogate this woman all day was exhausting but he had to press on. They were so close!

Draco shifted and reached into his bag to pull out the case of potions that Riply had packed. He handed Harry a clear vial full of clear liquid.

Harry's brow furrowed as he stared at the bottle, confused. Anavi's eyes widened and she began shaking her head frantically. His eyes snapped back up to see Draco's beautiful, smug smile. 

"Draco, is this veritaserum?!"

He shrugged. "Yes, I told Riply to pack the basics, remember?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock at the casual revelation that his family considered the ministry regulated potion a staple in their potions stores. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he laughed and kissed him, gratefully, as he took the bottle.

"When I'm reinstated, we _are_ going to have to have a talk about this," he chuckled and Draco grinned, impishly.

"No! Harry! You don't understand! He'll kill me if I mess this up!" Anavi pleaded. 

"Oh, don't worry, he can't kill you in Azkaban." He gave her a falsely reassuring smile and then tugged at her chin so that her lips parted. He used the dropper to give her the recommended three drops -- and then one more, for good measure. 

They watched as tranquility washed over her.

"Where is Ginny?" he asked.

She tried to strain against the potion for a bit but it was too much:

"On Sebastian's farm!" she blurted out and then looked horrified at her admission.

"A _farm_?" Draco asked, trying to make sense of that information. "I know he grew up on a sheep station but that's all the way in Australia..."

"Yes!" She blushed.

"She's in Australia?! How in the world would he get her to Australia?! You can't just sneak someone through customs on an international portkey..." Harry stated, just as confused as Draco.

"Well you can if you have an illegal portkey connection! _Damnit_!"

They turned to each other, sceptical. 

"Explain."

"Sebastian had an affair with Marietta Poles, the Deputy Head of the DMT, and then blackmailed her to give him access to untraced and unmonitored international portkeys. He also had her arrange for Ginny's floo records to Holyhead not to show up in any blanket searches of the locker room floo." She tried to pinch her lips shut.

Draco and Harry exchanged incredulous looks. So many pieces were falling into place!

"So he was behind the DMT case _and_ the Warbeck case..." Harry said, his own rage building. This was a sick and extremely meticulous man they were dealing with.

"Harry, how in the bloody hell are we supposed to get her from Australia? There's no way we can get a portkey when we're bloody fugitives!"

They both frowned in thought until it occurred to them at the same time:

" _ZABINI!_ "

" _BLAISE!_ "

* * *

They rushed to the floo, Harry jumping over the coffee table to do so.

" _NO! DON'T!_ " Anavi shouted.

" _Stupefy!_ " Draco shouted, again, and they were grateful for the silence that followed. "Crazy old bat!" He huffed before he threw a handful of floo powder into the hearth.

" _Draco?!_ Potter?!" Blaise rushed to the fireplace. "What on Earth is going on?! Please tell me you have _something?!_ Wait-- Draco, what are you wearing?"

Draco rolled his eyes and ignored the question about his peculiar muggle wear to get straight to the point:

"We have lots! Ginevra is alive and she's being held captive by Sebastian at his sheep station in Thundelarra!"

"Hold up, wait-- _What?!_ "

"Quite frankly, Blaise, I don't know if there's any way that I can say it that's going to make it make sense. _I_ still haven't figured out how to wrap my head around it, yet." he admitted, looking somewhat dumbstruck.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't even matter right now, Zabini. Right now, all that matters is..." Harry swallowed hard and closed his eyes in defeat. "Blaise Zabini, you are the only one who can save Ginny."

Draco could tell it pained him to say it. Knew it must've felt like giving up. But they all knew it to be right; in more than one way.

" _M-me_?" Zabini looked terrified and doubtful. "Potter, I'm not like you! Or Draco, even... I'm no Auror!"

Harry stared into the flames intensely and Draco felt heat radiating off of him despite the coolness of the green flames.

"Zabi-- _Blaise_. I know you're scared, but I need you to listen to me carefully. You can say a lot about the many ways I probably failed Ginny as a husband, but, I can guarantee you that if you could ask that woman right now, she would tell you that she _knows_ that she can always count on me to do _everything_ in my power to keep her safe! _To fight for her!_ " His voice cracked and he shook his head, pained. "Right now, I've _done_ everything in my power and I just can't do it. _But_. _You. Can_. Now if you love that woman like you say you do and you really want to take over the reigns, then I need you to put on your big boy pants, hold your head up high and your wand tight, and go and do some sneaky Slytherin shit and _BRING HER HOME!_ "

Blaise furrowed his brow, determinedly and nodded his head slowly, as if psyching himself out. 

"What time is your portkey, Blaise?" Draco asked.

"It's 11pm here now and my portkey isn't scheduled until 4am which is 7pm tonight your time."

Draco nodded thoughtfully.

"Blaise, once we leave here we probably wont have access to a floo again so listen carefully. When you get off of the floocall with us, floo Alexandra. Get her to get you the address and, if she can, the layout of Sebastian Krafft's sheep station in Thudelarra. He's only ever talked about growing up on this sheep station as if it were a terribly common and lowly experience, so, it's unlikely that he's personally staying there. On the off chance that he is, to keep watch over Ginevra, then I'm going to try and draw him out and keep him distracted."

Harry stiffened.

"Draw him out, how?" Harry suddenly looked like he did when he got all protective and possessive and Draco noticed him unconsciously reach for the ring hanging from his neck.

Draco smiled and kissed him on the forehead. "I've got friends in strange places, love. I'm not going anywhere."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Oh, get a room!"

"We will. As soon you find _Ginny_ ," he forced himself to say and Harry smiled at him beatifically. "Blaise, use the cover of night while you can and, whatever you do, finish up in time to _catch that portkey!_ "

"But Draco! There's no way we're both going to be able to catch a portkey when it's only registered for me! Don't you think I should have Alex try to update it for both of us?"

Draco shook his head. "No, the DMT has been corrupted and we can't guarantee that Sebastian won't be notified. Security coming out of Melbourne is pretty much none existent so you shouldn't need it. You wont have a problem getting out but when you make it here you'll likely be rushed. That wont be a bad thing, though, because they are already looking for Ginny; she's probably the one person that they'll be relieved to see brought back home, illegally or not."

"We can wait at Heathrow to make sure you make it. We won't be able to go through the Ministry entrance, of course, but if we go in the muggle way and get to the closest gate, we should be able to see you two exit through customs."

Blaise nodded.

"Godspeed, Blaise."

And the firecall ended.

Draco threw in more floo powder and the flames opened up into a dressing room where a number of people in glitter and sequins and wearing a shite ton of makeup and wigs were chatting merrily.

He glanced at Harry and was relieved to see that he only looked fascinated and not judgey.

"Blondie, is that you?!" one of them squealed.

"Hi ladies, how was the show?"

"Oh, it was fabulous as always, hunny. We missed you! Oh, who's the bloke?" asked Crystal, sporting a cotton candy blue wig.

"Mmm... Sexy, scruffy, green eyes -- Ooh, is that the London bloke?! Your first love??? Please tell me it's him!" chimed in Amanda rocking a knockoff ofJennifer Lopez' infamous green dress, fake boobs held in perfectly by copious amounts of spellotape.

Draco blushed fiercely.

Harry wrapped his arm around him and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, making said cheeks turn even redder.

"Hi, ladies! Nice to meet you," Harry smiled back, charmingly.

"Hiii handsome!" they sung in chorus.

"Oh, the pleasure is all ours, hunny," said Crystal. "You still in London, darling? I thought you had come back?"

"I did but I had to turn back around. Emergency." He shrugged in response to the questioning looks. "Hey, was Sebastian in the audience tonight?"

"Yep, as always. He looked a bit disappointed not to see you here, though."

Draco stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He was sure he _was_ looking for him at this point. 

"Don't let him know that you know, but I think he's a bit bummed that I'm with Harry. I wasn't the nicest to him when I left and I feel awfully bad about it. I'm sure he'd never admit it, but he was pretty torn up. Can you take him out for a good time tonight? Like, out till 6am, completely trashed type of good night?"

"Ooooh! You know we've got you sweetheart! Don't worry, we won't let him leave our sight until he is thoroughly pissed and distracted."

Draco tried to contain the evil grin threatening to take over. "Thank you, ladies. Oh, and whatever you do: Don't mention me! At all!"

"Mums the word!" said Amanda and the rest of them murmured their agreement before the floo ended.

Draco turned to Harry, shyly, only to be met with hooded eyes.

"What?" he asked, sheepishly.

Harry shook his head slowly, his eyes on Draco's lips.

"Nothing, only that you continue to amaze me."

The flush crept up to his ears but it didn't matter because then Harry's lips were on his.

"So what are we going to do about _her_." He nodded towards the still stunned Anavi when they pulled apart.

"Let me see your wand. I can send Stevens a patronus letting her know that she's the one who imperiused Robards, her role in all this, and that we've got her tied up with a bow for her under veritaserum. Hopefully they can get her to confess while she's still on the stuff and undo the imperius curse."

Harry stood and looked at him, smiling warmly, as he waved his wand and shouted: _"Expecto Patronum!"_

They were both surprised when, instead of his usual stag, a white peacock burst from the end of his wand and floated around the room."

"What?" Draco asked in an awed, hushed voice. "But we just saw the stag come out yesterday..."

Harry was blinking at the beautiful bird, awestruck. He turned to Draco, abruptly, eyes wide.

"Draco... I wasn't holding the wand..."

Draco looked back at him, confused.

"Draco, do you know the wand movement?"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, Harry. I told you I've never been able to do it. I always just look foolish when I try."

"Draco, try it now," he smiled, encouragingly. "Trust me. Just move your wand like this."

He looked at Harry sceptically as he stood and took his wand. He didn't have to think too hard to find a happy memory. Harry had supplied him with enough in the past 24 hours to last him a lifetime.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

They both watched, completely spellbound and fingers interlaced tightly, as a stag erupted from the end of Draco's wand, strong and steady, and galloped over to nuzzle at the peacock with its nose.


	16. Peculiar Boggarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Update August 30th, 2020** I edited the part written in Draco's POV in this chapter because it wasn't sitting right with me. Not a big change and doesn't add too too much to the story, but does make it flow better and seem more genuine, IMHO. Adding the note here in case you're coming back to it and wondering "What the heck?" and I'll add the same note to the beginning of next chapter I'll post today for those who might have already read the chapter but are interested in going back to read the changes.

"ID and boarding pass, please."

_"Confundus."_

"Oh, right. Right on through, sirs."

"Thank you, have a great day." Harry bowed to the TSA agent and Draco quickly scurried behind him.

"How illegal was that?" Draco whispered.

"Super. Get ready to take off your shoes."

"My _shoes_?!" he asked, baffled as Harry stepped up to the bins and took off his watch, shoes, baseball cap, jacket, and hesitated before he took the ring off from around his neck and gingerly placed it in the basket.

"Any metals, too."

Draco took off the rings on both hands, his beanie, jacket, loafers, and belt and placed them in with Harry's. He looked nervous as he stared ahead.

"What's that big whirring thing?" He grabbed on to Harry's bicep with one hand and pointed with the other.

Harry smiled at him.

"The TSA agents will run a metal detecting wand over you like so," he nodded to the man ahead. "--And then they'll tell you when to go stand in the big whirring machine, otherwise known as an x-ray machine, which will just take a big picture of your insides to make sure you aren't smuggling anything dangerous."

"My _insides_?! Potter, what the fuck?!" His nails bit into Harry's arm.

"Don't be nervous -- see, even the little teeny boppers do it." He pointed at the gaggle of thirteen year olds with lollipops ahead of him.

Harry wanted to just tell the prat to stop acting so weird before the TSA agents flagged him as suspicious or something but he knew Draco well enough to know that it would likely only have the _opposite_ effect since he was already nervous. He eyed the candy again and, before he could even stop himself said:

"Look, if you can be nice and brave for me while you go through, I'll give _you_ a lollipop."

Harry saw the moment it clicked for Draco, the nervous look replaced with a lascivious smile just as Harry reached the check point and stepped up.

Harry mentally kicked himself. He really should figure out what he wanted because he was upping the ante on the mixed messages and soon Draco was going to think he really _was_ loony. He'd felt the shift and knew Draco did, too, but... Hopefully things would be simplified soon.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Draco made it through without incident (because he had been sure he was going to be subjected to a strip search considering how fucking bizarre he'd been acting). He was smiling brilliantly as he padded over to him just as Harry was putting his ring back around his neck.

"I believe you owe me a delightfully hard and sticky treat," he purred in his ear.

Harry felt his cock harden on cue but the middle of Heathrow was hardly the place and, of course... there were still other things to consider...

" _Later,_ " he said, kissing away Draco's pout and handing him his shoes.

"That's false advertising, you know." Draco crossed his arms petulantly.

"Tough nut, love," he chuckled. "You know, it's really nice to be able to do that. Kiss you. In public," he clarified in answer to Draco's raised brow as he bent to slip on his shoes.

His brow was worried when he stood back up.

"Oh... I guess, technically, you're not out yet... Sorry, I didn't even really think -- And, Merlin, I guess I sort of outed you to my parents, didn't I?" He frowned.

"Draco, I was talking about the whole _'enemies to lovers'_ thing." He smirked.

Draco screwed up his face in confusion.

" _What?_ Oh! _Oh!_ " He forced out a surprised laugh, but he didn't quite look relieved. Was he really worried?

"You know I'm not worried about who knows, right? Not here and not in our world either if that's what you think... I wasn't not out, I was just... married. To a woman." He rolled his eyes at himself and scratched at the back of his neck, sheepishly. "It just never comes up when you're married to a woman -- but I'm not ashamed!"

Draco smiled warmly but then it turned rueful.

"You know it's not all rainbows and sparkles? Being out? I mean, I suppose it's easier when you're... more masculine... or your interests line up with gender norms." He blushed. "Makes it easier to hide."

Harry cocked his head and looked at him searchingly.

"Do you... want to hide?"

Draco looked away.

"No, I absolutely don't want to, but I _am_ used to it if that's what you need... In public..." Harry frowned so he continued quickly: "I mean, after a lifetime of being told that I can't do this or that because it's not what proper, pureblood men do or that its ok so long as no one ever _sees..._ Half the time I just keep buttoned up anyways from practice. Or maybe it's the evolutionarily safe thing to do..." He furrowed his brow. "But we don't have to do big displays, I know it's not..."

What was he getting at? Was Harry missing something?

"But, Draco, not even an hour ago we were casually talking about drag..."

Draco smiled wryly and shrugged. 

"Well, yes... I mean drag allows me to say bugger it all. To be confidant and bold and exaggerate every _effeminate_ bit about me that I've been told is wrong and really not give a damn! In safe spaces, that is..." he added, somewhat shyly.

Harry smiled, proudly. He had always associated Draco with beauty, hair, and fashion but he'd never thought anything of it until Ron had pointed out that it wasn't stereotypically the norm for a bloke. But that knowledge, along with learning that Draco loved pop divas, dancing, and sparkles had all just seemed to make sense to Harry. Of course Draco liked those things. He was beautiful and magical and creative and why wouldn't he like beautiful and magical and creative things? The thought that he ever felt the need to hide them made him sad. If he'd found an outlet that combined it all _and_ allowed him to be worshiped (like the diva he was) instead of ridiculed, then Harry was all for it!

He smiled at Draco ruefully. 

"But you're still worried that I might want to hide it?" He kind of understood his point. Harry's interests were quidditch, football, and fighting bad guys. The only smoking gun he had to even tip off a homophobic prick that they should get their hackles up was the fact that he was obviously in love with the man standing in front of him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because... being out comes with a lot funny looks and ridicule and even some flat out hate..." he said cautiously, peeking up at Harry through blonde lashes as if waiting for him to suddenly hightail it out of there.

Harry just stared, deadpanned, at him.

"Have you forgotten about the _Potter Stinks_ badges or the _Daily Prophet_ articles calling me insane?!" he asked, incredulously. "I think I can take it," he said, smugly, taking Draco's hand in his and watching the funny stares start to unfold already around them.

Draco laughed and then hid his face in his free hand. "Yes, let's just pretend I was preparing you for the world and not just being a complete little shite."

"Both. I believe it was definitely both," Harry said before he turned to kiss him, again, and this time let his lips linger, kissing in a slow and deliberate kind of way until he felt Draco's worry melting.

There was at least one _"Get a room!"_ , but Harry paid it no mind. 

"Draco, I'm so, so, so, _so_ very proud to have you by my side. I never want to hide you."

Draco smiled, his cheeks warm as they walked hand in hand down terminal 5.

"Now," The more pressing concern: "What on Earth are we supposed to do here for four hours until Blaise and Ginny's portkey?"

They had come to the airport straight from Anavi's house with no other practical and _warm_ places to hide out as fugitives. Harry was already feeling antsy and impatient at the thought of airport kiosk shopping or duty free stores.

"Easy," Draco shrugged.

Draco peered around until he spotted a man in an expensive, tailored business suit wearing a watch and shoes that looked like they alone cost more than every material thing Harry owned. They watched as he headed into someplace called the _Concorde Room._

Draco pointed to the sign announcing it as a first class lounge. 

"There."

Before Harry could protest, Draco had already made his way over and was confounding the unsuspecting hostess.

"Really, Draco, we could just wait at the gate, there's no need for--"

Draco pushed him through the door and Harry's jaw hit the floor as he took in the large lounge complete with a plethora of comfortable looking lounge chairs and quaint little fireplaces, a fancy dining room and bar, and signs pointing to a spa. He sighed and then shook his head lovingly as the ridiculous man beside him smiled back at him, triumphantly. 

* * *

"I'm sorry, you can't be back here without an appointment, I have a customer."

"Take a break, hunny, it's time for your lunch," Draco said as he waved his wand.

"Right. It's time for my lunch break," the dazed masseuse said as she prepared to take off.

"Wait! Do you happen to have any more of these cute little uniforms?" He pointed to her white button up dress.

"Oh, why of course. They're in the closet there." She pointed before she turned and walked off.

Draco had spent the past two and a half hours trying to get Harry to calm down. First he tried to make him eat something, convince him that he needed fuel. They'd gone to the dining room for food but Harry barely even touched his lamb chops. Next, Draco thought drinks might help but Harry simply bought him one but refused any for himself, mumbling on about _'not making the same mistakes'_ and having to _'do better.'_

Draco had lasted through an hour and a half of Harry's pacing back and forth in that muggle lounge before he threw his hands up in defeat, told him he was stressing him out, and demanded that he go and take advantage of one of the fifteen minute neck and shoulder massages at the spa. It was a fine idea and all until Draco was left alone reading a muggle magazine all about how Angelina Jolie stole Brad Pitt from Jennifer Anniston and he was suddenly reminded that Harry was bi and unbelievably attractive and that some muggle girl was about to rub all up on him.

He poked his head into the massage room where Harry sat, straddling the massage chair; he was face down in the little face hole and shirtless. With his hair pinned back up and out of the way, Draco swallowed at the sight of the rippling tendons in his back, far too tense for their own good but, Gods, were they sexy.

Draco silently sauntered towards Harry, stopping to hover low over his back, letting his breath ghost over soft skin as he rubbed his hands up the length of his back. Rather than relax, Harry stiffened and Draco smirked, devilishly.

He pulled out his wand and wordlessly summoned an assortment of massage oils. When he found one that reminded him of Harry in their quidditch days, he quickly rubbed it into his hands, heating it with the friction and filling the room with the scent of sandalwood. When he rubbed up his back again, his hand glided easily and long, nimble fingers worked to undo some of the knots as he went. Harry did eventually begin to relax into the touch until Draco finally started to massage his neck and shoulders and couldn't resist anymore: he sat down on the narrow space of the part of the seat not occupied by Harry, pressing up against his bum as he leaned in and slowly licked up the curve of his neck with his tongue.

"Draco Malfoy, that'd better fucking be you," he said, muffled by the massage chair.

Draco smirked against his neck. "How'd you know?"

"Well first of all, I could certainly be mistaken, but that little massage girl out there didn't _look_ like she had a giant cock. And," He made to get up. Draco only begrudgingly got off of him. Harry stood and readjusted so he sat facing the wrong way in the chair, his feet planted on the floor instead of on the leg cushions, and pulled Draco so that he was straddling his lap. "I'd recognize your touch anywhere."

Draco's heart warmed and his cock twitched as he kissed him, sweetly.

"You look good in this," Harry said, his hands landing on Draco's thighs and sneaking innocently underneath the skirt of the dress. His eyes drifting to where his cock was just barely covered by the fabric like he wanted desperately to take a peek.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe I'll keep it. Take it off me?"

Harry looked like he really, _really_ wanted to do just that but, alas, he swallowed dryly and shook his head.

"Draco... What if they don't make it? How am I supposed to live with myself? Knowing that while I should have been worried about her making it home, I was off having sex in an airport massage parlor?" He rolled his eyes.

Draco wrapped his arms around his neck and stared directly into emerald eyes, Harry's glasses discarded somewhere off to the side. He looked so raw and unguarded this way.

"Harry, it's out of our control for now. Blaise is not leaving there without Ginny so one of two things is going to happen."

Harry looked at him, expectant. Draco raised one finger.

"Either we watch Blaise and Ginny come through on that portkey come seven o'clock," He raised another finger. "Or they don't and we hop on one of these giant muggle death traps and we go and find them."

Harry's eyes softened as he looked back at Draco, touched that he was willing to stick this out with him until the end, either way -- Even if it did involve muggle technology that he didn't understand and, thus, terrified him. Draco swallowed because he knew full well that they might have a very tough road ahead of them.

"Harry, one outcome comes with a media frenzy headache that is over in a week but, the other... The other would mean that we're in for more running and hiding and fighting." And, he didn't want to say it, knowing how frightened Harry was of loss, but it wasn't lost on _him_ that there was also the possibility that they'd both be burying people they loved at the end of this. "We might not have peace again for a long time after 7pm tonight. Harry, it's OK to enjoy it while you can. If you don't want to for other reasons, then that's ok. I just think you're being unfair to yourself if it's the _only_ reason."

Harry swallowed and silver eyes searched green. Harry closed his eyes as if afraid for Draco to see him. He sighed and then bravely reopened them.

"Draco, I....." He looked off into space for a moment as if trying to find the words. He furrowed his brow as he remembered something. 

"Draco, the things you said back there... To Anavi... How did you know them?"

"Kamal told me a long time ago. Remember when I was waiting for you at the restaurant? Afterwards, I was going to use dark magic to find and hex that fat cousin of yours but Pansy wouldn't let me." He rolled his eyes. 

Harry chuckled and then smiled sadly. 

"Well then, you know that I haven't always been loved?" Draco stared deeply into Harry's eyes and caressed his face with the back of his fingers, hoping to convey all the love _he_ had for him. Harry leaned into the touch and closed his eyes as he continued. "And I'm sure that you also know that, when I have been loved, there's historically been a 50/50 chance that something tragic will happen to take them away? I mean, Ginny's just further proof of that!"

"Harry -- look at me. Ginny's going to be fine and nothing's going to happen to me," he said reassuringly. 

Harry shook his head sceptically. 

"This whole situation, being on the run, just puts you in so much danger... Last time, I tried to convince myself that I would be ok if I opened myself up to you in _that_ way even though I _knew_ I was going to lose you." He shook his head. "Draco, I wasn't ok! No where near it! All that wound up happening when you left was that I shut down even more than before..."

There was so much pain behind his eyes and Draco wished he could take it away. It was all his fault that he'd experienced it in the first place!

"I'm so sorry, Harry! I never should have left!"

Harry bowed his head. 

"Maybe not, but I'm just glad you came back. But if I'm being honest, it's scaring the shite out of me because I'm feeling stuff I've blocked out for half a decade... And I have my guards to protect me against loss but when you talk about sex... To have you... _inside_ of me like that..." His voice dropped lower, just barely a whisper on that last part and Draco bore witness to the longing, fear, and trepidation at war behind the emerald green veil. "Draco, there _are_ no guards when we have sex." 

Draco tucked a strand of raven hair behind his ear as he thought on that. "Harry... you do realize there are other configurations to that equation, right?"

Draco had asked to top their first time purely for selfish reasons but he kind of got the sense that Harry had enjoyed not having to be the one in control for once in his life. He hoped that he knew that it didn't have to be the case if it made him uncomfortable. 

A spot of color rose to Harry's cheeks and he looked down to play with the fringe of the white dress. "I know... but I kinda really liked that configuration..." he said, sheepishly.

Draco frowned and reached out to tilt his chin upwards so that he was forced to look him in the eyes again. He didn't need to be embarrassed or shy about that and Draco didn't plan to let him be.

Harry let out a light laugh. 

"See, I like it when you're all confident and bossy and I trust you when you take the wheel." That part surprised Draco and it both warmed his heart and made him feel a sense of awe. How did he ever become deserving of that trust? From Harry Potter, of all people? "It's just that..."

Harry smiled and shook his head, incredulously. 

"This is going to sound sappy and maybe a little childish -- I'm sure Bubblykicks would be proud," he scoffed and Draco raised a confused brow. Harry took a deep breath before he continued: "Draco, sex with you... Well... it's filled with love and awkward insecurity and hope and this... this desperate need for safety and belonging and reassurance....." He paused, his brow furrowed. "Quite frankly, it's _every single thing I'm afraid of_ and it's brave and it's raw and it's freeing and it is _everything..._ and I am Icarus flying too close to the sun and I _love_ it. I want that more than anything, Draco," he said, breathlessly, and Draco felt his own breath catch. "But Draco, if I lose you after that again in a way where you can't come back... I don't know if _I_ can make it back from that..."

Draco smiled ruefully.

"Firstly, let me just make sure I'm hearing you correctly: Your biggest fear in this is not that I'll leave you, but that I'll leave you dickmatized and bereft?" He raised a lighthearted brow.

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Yea, actually." He shrugged. Then he frowned. "I wonder what that boggart would look like?" 

Draco chuckled and kissed him, sweetly.

He sighed. He really wished that he could tell Harry something stupid and maudlin like: _"Don't worry, I'd never ever let death take me away from you,"_ but he couldn't lie to Harry like that. They'd both been through and seen too much to make such a promise or for Harry not to view it as a crock of bullshite.

His gaze idled, ruefully, on the faded skull on his left forearm which had been left exposed by the short sleeved ensemble. Harry noticed his ruminating and his brows furrowed in concern; they shifted to surprise when Draco rose, slightly, to kiss the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

"We've both survived some shite that we had no business surviving, haven't we?"

Harry's mouth twisted into a wry smile in response.

Draco thought about what Harry had said on the hill about why they'd both been capable of possessing the Elder Wand. After all he'd been through, Draco was no more afraid of death than he was of loving the man beside him. He'd long accepted that both were inevitable, he only now had faith that he could and _wanted_ to stave off one while the other he would gladly drown in. Harry wasn't afraid of dying, himself, and it showed in his life, the risks that he took, the job that he loved. Meanwhile, he was so terrified of losing more loved ones that Draco couldn't help but wonder: Would his fear of Draco's death prevent him from trusting the process and loving freely? Could Harry at least trust in _him_ to not go easily?

"Harry, I wish I could promise you that nothing bad will ever happen but, not unlike yourself, I've been tempted, tortured, and tested in just about every way I can think of..." His brow furrowed as thoughts of all the unsavory moments of his life came to mind. Ollivander had called them two sides of the same coin and it struck Draco as both poetic and tragic how true that was. "But, here I am: alive, successful, and," he rolled his eyes, "until this recent fugitive status, perfectly redeemed in most places around the globe. I say all that to say: I'm not fragile. I don't break easily and I don't give up when I'm determined and, right now, I'm determined to spend a long, long time -- as many years as you and the Gods will allow -- by your side."

Harry inhaled sharply at his words.

"I love you, Harry. And, of course, if it makes you feel better to wait until this is over then, we'll wait."

He wanted to spend a lifetime with Harry and that would mean plenty of time for all that. For now, he was just glad to have him like this. This felt more intimate in some ways. Their teenage selves could have never!

"I love you, too, Draco," he said, pressing his forehead against his. "Thank you for understanding. In more ways than one," he added, sheepishly. When he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and pulled him close for a hug, they both stilled when the movement resulted in cock rubbing against cock.

Draco groaned. "Salazar, I swear if Blaise doesn't come through that gate in the next hour with Ginny in tow to end all of this then I'm going to find him and kill him myself."


	17. Changing of The Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **August 30th, 2020** As I post this new chapter, I just want to let anyone who came straight to the newest update know that I edited a scene in the previous chapter in case you'd like to read the changes. It won't hurt if you don't and I don't think that it adds too much more to the story but does make it flow better (sorry, it was really bugging me 😂) and now I think it reads more genuinely, too. It's the part written in Draco's POV when Harry starts talking about his fears, if you're interested!

**Saturday, 27th January, 2007**

The muggles at gate C68 -- preparing to board their 7:15pm flight to Chicago with stops in Toronto and Montreal -- gave very little consideration to the two men sat staring straight ahead, un-movingly, at the blank stretch of wall half hidden by an old shoe shine booth. Nor did they pay any attention to the fact that, every now and again, that blank stretch of canvas produced a man or woman dressed in robes or a cloak who did their very best to inconspicuously join the throng of travelers. They _may_ have noticed the way the one dressed like a confused rocker (because who wore loafers and trousers with a leather jacket and Metallica hat, anyway?) held the other's hand when 7pm came and went without anything more eventful happening than the flight attendant's announcement that those in Zone B were now free to board.

Harry would probably never forget those moments when the world truly seemed in danger of crashing in on itself. How he had waited with bated breath, mouth dry, and his whole being seemingly reduced to the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, every passing second feeling like days.

_"Give it time. Customs will have a ton of questions... Who knows how long it will take."_

He barely registered the words of comfort that sounded so very far away. His lungs worked just fine, yet, still he was drowning, suffocating; Paralyzed as the air itself -- the _world_ itself -- crushed him. And then the grip tightening on his hand wrenched him back to reality, grounding him as Draco nodded towards the group of people running along the terminal.

Aurors. 

He watched as Robards (apparently no longer imperiused), Proudfoot, Savage, Reynolds, Jensen and Stevens rushed towards the shoe shine booth and disappeared, one-by-one, behind it. 

Stevens paused and searched the terminal before she pushed through. Her eyes landed on them, as if she expected Harry to be there, and she nodded once to indicate: _We've got her._

Harry gripped onto Draco tightly, with both hands, feeling faint with anticipation. He needed to see that she was safe for himself, with his own eyes!

What must've only been about a 10-15 minute wait felt like an eternity before Draco stopped the litany of reassurance he was giving out between the occasional kiss to his knuckles and stood to pull him to his feet. 

His heart clutched as he saw red hair stand out in the middle of the throng as a disheveled Ginny Potter-Soon-To-Be-Weasley-Maybe-One-Day-Zabini desperately searched in his direction. Harry numbly took off his baseball cap and Blaise, who looked exhausted and a little banged up himself, pointed in their direction. Ginny pushed away from Savage and Robards, who were holding her up, and ran full force, despite her limp, into his arms.

"Ginny," his voice cracked as he took in the bruises on her face.

_"Oh, Harry!_ " she sobbed into his chest. He swallowed down the lump in his own throat. "I knew it... I just _knew_ you'd figure it out! Thank you... _thank you_!" she sung as he held her tightly, blinking through the tears that he finally stopped resisting. 

He rested his head on the top of hers and turned to Draco who looked some awkward combination of relieved, uncomfortable, and, to his credit, only a tad bit like he was trying desperately not to be jealous. But then Ginny had pulled away and surprised everyone (Draco most of all) when she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, next. 

"Thank you, Draco!" she sniffed and kissed him on the cheek before pulling him into a big hug. He looked at Harry with wide eyes then awkwardly patted her on the back.

Blaise was by her side as she pulled away and he and Harry shared a nod.

"I'm glad you're safe, Ginny," Draco said, sincerely. 

She quirked an eyebrow with some effort. 

"What? No Weaselette? He's softened you, Malfoy," she teased.

"I know." He rolled his eyes. 

She looked between the two of them and beamed, knowingly, only wincing a little bit at the action. 

"I'm very glad to see that you took my advice, Harry." 

He pulled Draco to his side and kissed his temple.

"Me too, Gin. Welcome back. Thank you for bringing her home safely Za-- _Blaise_." 

"Well I _had_ to! After that speech you gave, there was no way I could return back to Great Britain without her, now could I?!" They all laughed. 

* * *

Harry leaned on Draco, heavily, as they trudged through Terminal 5 towards the DMT designated floo and apparition ports. The adrenaline that had carried them through this long week had finally gone and Harry supposed that he could sleep for a year straight if any one would let him.

They had learned that, because of their efforts, his team had moved quickly to arrest Anavi Chopra, Marietta Poles, and, most surprisingly of all, Benjamin Vermont, the waiter at La Sirène, in connection with the kidnapping. The MLE was already in the works with law enforcement in Australia to apprehend Sebastian Krafft who was still at large.

Apparently, Sebastian had returned to the farm, drunk and irate, just as Blaise had managed to untie Ginny. According to Blaise, the man had been _"a force to be reckoned with,"_ and he didn't think they would have been able to escape had the man not been so thoroughly pissed from his forced night out. Blaise described a harrowing duel between he and Sebastian but, evidently, it was Ginny who had ended it by catching the sloppy bloke unawares with a palm strike to the throat and a carefully aimed knee to the groin. Never had Harry been so appreciative of her former crush on Lucy Liu and all the times that the spunky little witch had insisted that they watch _Charlie's Angels_ on repeat back when he had the muggle flat.

So far, Sebastian had evaded the Aussie Aurors but it had only been a few hours and, with the prick no longer able to portkey all over the world at will, their odds of catching him quickly were good.

Harry kept reaching up to stroke the wand now tucked safely in the inside pocket of the jean jacket, so glad to be reunited with the holly wand with its phoenix feather core that had felt so much like a missing appendage in these past few days. Robards had reinstated Harry, effective immediately, and after the week that he'd had, Harry had never been happier with the prospect of being able to sit behind a desk and, for once, he thought as he looked up at the beautiful man standing strong beside him (who'd finally ditched the hat but still wore the leather), to slow down and have more time for the people that really mattered.

Draco caught him staring and smiled back at him, warmly. He pulled away and rustled through his bag for something. To Harry's surprise, he pulled out the CD player he had given him all those years ago and placed the headphones on Harry's ears. Harry raised a confused brow as Draco pressed play and skipped through songs by The Spice Girls, Britany Spears, Janet Jackson, and the likes.

Harry felt his cheeks heat up and he chuckled.

"I can't believe I made you a mixtape."

"I want another one," he said simply as he reached the last song and let it play. He interlaced their fingers as they resumed their slow walk to the apparition point and the soulful notes of Mariah Carey's _"Always Be My Baby"_ filled his ears.

Harry was reminded of all the tragic feelings of love and loss he had experienced when he'd first listened to this song and thought of Draco. He'd thought it'd aligned perfectly with the situation, at the time, and Harry's refusal to accept that a love that strong could ever die. He was so eternally grateful to find out that he had been right.

They were met with incredulous stares as they casually entered the apparition room full of witches and wizards -- who likely still hadn't yet heard the news that they had been acquitted and, thus, must've thought they had some nerve -- but Harry couldn't care. His heart felt so full. He flashed his newly restored Head Auror badge that allowed them to skip the line and apparated them straight to Grimmauld Place.

They landed in the (thankfully Walburga free, though, still wrecked) foyer just as Mariah sung the last _"You and I will always be._ "

Harry smiled, brightly, filled to the brink with pure love as he took off the headphones and turned to face Draco.

He was left speechless, however, when Draco dropped down to one knee and, waiving his wand, summoned the chain from over Harry's head.

Harry's heart beat rapidly as he watched pale, slender fingers work deftly to remove the ring and, suddenly, he'd forgotten how to breath. He saw himself reflected back in silver eyes that shone with such sincerity, as if he were the most precious thing they'd ever laid sights on.

"I love you, Harry. More than anything on this earth. And, Gods willing, I want to show you that every single day for the rest of my life. Harry James Potter, will you do me the immense honor of allowing me that chance? Will you be my husband?"

"Husband?" he asked, hushed and awed and barely daring to believe. He'd been a husband, of course, but why did it feel so different and just altogether special to hear that word coming from the man kneeling before him? 

He blinked through tears, _happy_ tears, and nodded, gingerly holding out his shaking, slightly calloused hand for Draco to slide the ring onto his ring finger. 

"Yes, Draco," he said, thickly. " _Of course!_ "

They were safe. They were cleared! And they were getting _married!_ He pulled Draco to his feet and then his arms were around his neck and Draco's soft lips found his. 

Harry reluctantly pulled away from the kiss.

"But, wait! Draco... what about your job? And Australia?? Your home..." 

Draco's hand snaked up the back of his neck and his fingers found their way into Harry's hair. He skillfully removed the elastic and Harry's hair cascaded around him. Draco's eyes were molten hot pools of silver. 

"I'll work from the London office and travel when I need to like Blaise."

"But..."

"Harry." He coiled his hand around Harry's hair and tugged, gently but firmly, so that Harry was at his mercy, neck exposed. He started at the base of his throat and then let his teeth and bottom lip lightly scrap upward, detouring and stopping just below his ear so that when he spoke -- voice rough with want and wavering restraint -- Harry could feel every syllable. " _You_ are my home. _Fuck Australia_."

Harry couldn't hide his shiver at the words. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing and mouth suddenly very dry. His cock hardened as he inhaled the intoxicating citrusy smell of bergamot and Draco so very, very close. 

"Really? I've heard the weather is great this time of year..." he squeaked out.

Draco's lips twitched as his thigh made its way between Harry's and Harry's breathing hitched. 

"It's alright. Too many spiders, not enough Harry Potter." His eyes gleamed as he captured Harry's lips with his own. 

Harry felt love and longing course through _every_ part of him as their tongues twined, sliding together hungrily. He spun on the spot and they fell into Harry's bed with a soft thud. Perhaps the first time ever that his apparition had been 100 percent spot on. 

* * *

_"Draco, I'm going to..."_

Draco waited until Harry was right at the edge and then abruptly removed his mouth, leaving Harry whimpering and hips bucking upward, desperately hoping to rediscover refuge in the back of Draco's throat.

"Not yet, baby." He removed the fingers that had been gently stretching him open and licked up the underside of Harry's straining cock, teasingly, once more. He dipped down to let his tongue tease at his hole briefly before pulling away. "I want to feel you when you cum."

_"Draco..."_ he pleaded. 

" _Fuck..._ Harry, you've no idea--" Draco stroked his cock slowly, mouth dry and pupils blown to shite as he took in the sight before him _._

Harry was sprawled out beneath him, legs spread wide, oiled up entrance on display and cock flushed against his abdomen looking like Draco's every wet dream come to life. After years of waiting, days of buildup, and the overwhelming sense of wholeness in knowing that he would get to spend the rest of his life with this man that he loved... Draco could devour him. He could leave him so thoroughly fucked that he would feel it for _days,_ but, the way Harry stared back at him, as if Draco were his whole world, made him take a deep breath and exhale shakily as he lined up with his hole. 

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked, fully aware that the nervousness in Harry's eyes ran deeper than the fact that this was his first time in years.

Harry bit his lip and nodded fervently but didn't speak. Draco chuckled lightly when he realized it was because he was doing that thing where he forgot to breathe.

Harry gasped and Draco kissed at the corners of his mouth as he slowly eased inside of him, centimeter by centimeter. He relished the way Harry's body resisted and pushed back against him while simultaneously clinching tight around his cock, trying to swallow him whole.

_"Fuck!"_ he said again as tight, velvet, heat wrapped around him.

Harry panted and moaned so sweetly as he adjusted to the fullness. Draco's mouth traveled to his pulse point and then down his neck to his collarbone, feeling Harry's muscles relax around him as he laved at his skin, his tongue massaging and soothing away his nerves as he began to move slowly.

"Draco..." It sounded like a prayer on his lips and Draco needed to see him. He lifted his head and stormy grey eyes, dark with lust, sought green as he picked up a steady rhythm. He watched, transfixed, as Harry seemed to unravel beneath him. It was a magnificent sight -- beautiful, really -- to watch Harry dissolve into raw sensation and emotion, his head thrown back, his breathing hitched, mouth agape, but his eyes refusing to leave Draco's. He couldn't help but smile, lovingly, knowing that it was ok because he had the power to meticulously piece him back together, piece by piece. 

Their magic buzzed and mingled in a way that Draco had never felt and his own breathing hitched as he picked up the pace.

"That's it, love." His voice was low and raspy as Harry's muscles clinched around him. The mellifluous sounds coming from Harry's mouth told him that neither of them were going to last much longer.

He switched angles.

_"Ahh! Draco!"_

He did it again and Harry mewled as cock stroked against prostate. Harry wrapped his legs tighter around Draco's hips and moved to match him. 

_"Merlin-- I can't-- what is--"_ Harry rambled, incomprehensibly, at the overwhelming foreign sensation.

Draco smirked, realizing that Harry was so close and he hadn't even touched his cock yet. As if he'd read Draco's mind, he tried to reach a hand between them, desperate for release, but Draco quickly pinned his hands above his head. Harry whimpered.

Draco grinned, slyly, knowing that he'd thank him later if he could actually make him cum this way, solely from prostate stimulation, and, Draco loved a challenge...

"It's ok. That's it, love." He interlocked his right hand with Harry's left and brought it to his lips, gently kissing his ring finger. "It's ok to let go."

That was it. Harry clinched around him erratically as his cock pulsed and shot thick ropes of cum across his chest and abdomen. 

Draco leaned in and kissed him, swallowing every moan as he continued to thrust until Harry had fully rode out his orgasm before he found his own release buried deep inside his fiancé. 

They lay like that for long moments, ragged breathing evening before Draco finally pulled out with a soft plop. He rolled onto his side and let the back of his fingers gently caress the scruff along Harry's jaw as he searched emerald eyes that looked too wide and bright and full of happy innocence for the things they'd seen.

The guards were gone.

Draco pulled him to his chest, a move that felt both loving and protective, and thought he might never let him go. 


	18. Family

**Sunday, 28th January, 2007**

"Harry... _Harry_ , _wait!_ "

Draco fidgeted with the dragon cufflinks under his robe sleeves. Even _they_ must have sympathized with his nerves because, for once, they didn't nip back.

"Are you sure they want me here, Harry? I wouldn't want to impose... These people don't have very much reason to like me, after all..."

They had been enjoying their first chaos-free morning together -- Harry sprawled across his chest, breath ghosting over the fine blonde hairs there in post coital bliss -- when Ronald Weasley had come barging into Harry's room, unannounced. Draco hadn't bothered to cover up as Weasley turned scarlet and covered his eyes (served him right) or Harry scrambled to summon pants. Ron had hastily invited Harry to a Weasley event this afternoon (before fleeing blindly and running into a wall with his eyes still closed).

It had been blatantly obvious to Draco that it had been an invitation for Harry and Harry alone, but of course the self-righteous git had taken it upon himself to invite Draco along, too.

Draco had only begrudgingly accepted Harry's invitation because he couldn't think of a kind way to say _"fuck no"_ on the spot without hurting Harry's feelings (not when he had looked all sincere and hopeful like that). He had been trying to think of a way out of it all morning and was thoroughly regretting that, quite ironically, he didn't have any of the Wheezes Skiving Snackboxes.

Harry reached for his hand and rubbed soothing circles in his palm.

"Relax, love. You underestimate them. Trust me, it will be fine. After all you did to help bring Ginny home, there's no way they would just cast you out or something."

Draco scoffed but bit his tongue, in no hurry to burst his sweet, naive little bubble.

"And if you're going to be a part of my life..." Harry swallowed, betraying some of his own nerves. "It's important that they see you as such."

Draco took a deep breath and braced himself as Harry let go of his hand to knock on the door. A few beats passed before the door swung open to reveal a genial looking woman whom he remembered being at the head the throng of red-headed children during trips to Diagon Alley before each Hogwarts start of term. 

"Oh, Harry, dear!" she beamed, enveloping Harry in a big hug and then stepping back to examine him with one hand on either side of his face. "I am so glad you're alright! Oh it was pure _torture_ not knowing if you or Ginny were going to be alright! But of course, I should have known you would be as many times as you've... Well!"

"Thank you, Molly," Harry said, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

Draco was still standing right there beside him but he really wished that he could just shrink away instead of awkwardly lingering on the outskirts of their moment. But then Mrs. Weasley fixed him with her gaze and placed a hand on his arm.

"And, Draco, dear. Thank you for helping to bring our Ginny back to us." Her eyes crinkled with warmth.

"Of-- of course," he got out, gracelessly.

Harry's brow worried and he reached for his hand again, probably for reassurance or some sweet bullshite like that but Mrs. Weasley looked down at their clasped hands with a rueful little smile and, surely, flaunting their gay relationship in the face of Harry's only mother figure when the ink on the divorce papers hadn't even dried with her own daughter was a horrible idea and if Harry wasn't kicked to the curb then it would probably only be because they were blaming Draco for corrupting him and ruining their family and --

"Welcome to the family, dear." Mrs. Weasley interrupted his spiraling thoughts by pulling him into a proper hug.

"Beg your pardon?" he asked softly against her shoulder, not quite sure he'd heard correctly.

He realized belatedly, as they pulled apart, that he probably sounded rude. " _Sorry!_ I'm sorry! I just didn't expect..."

Molly shook her head. "No, no need to explain, dear. If you had told me just two weeks ago that I'd be letting my favourite-son-in-law go without a fight, I'd have hexed your toes off." She shot Harry a wry smile. "But something like this... Harry, I just want you to be happy. You've been my son long before you were my son-in-law and the last thing I want either you or Ginny doing is forcing something that doesn't make you happy. And if it's young men that make you happy, well..."

Harry blushed and Draco's eyes widened. Mrs. Weasley simply shrugged and then turned back to Draco. "And if _you're_ the young man that makes Harry happy, then: Welcome to the family, Draco, dear."

Draco smiled, sheepishly, and then suddenly found himself fighting a lump in his throat.

"Are you ok, dear?" she asked, concerned.

Harry, who looked a bit emotional himself, whispered something in her ear and he saw understanding flash in her eyes. She reached out to touch his arm one more time. "I'll see you inside in a moment. Harry tells me you like chocolate and I've got a chocolate cake going that's just about ready."

He nodded and managed to get out a _"Thank you"_ without his voice cracking too much.

He hugged himself and then Harry was there, wrapping him up in what Draco mentally called a Harry cocoon (though he would never tell _him_ that). Harry kissed his temple and they stood in silence for a long moment.

"Is that what that was supposed to have been like?" he finally said when he felt like he'd gained some sense of composure.

Harry kissed his temple again. "Yes, love."

He nodded against Harry's shoulder, eyes absently following the trek of a disgruntled looking garden gnome.

"Can we go get cake now?"

"Yes, love," Harry said as he planted one last kiss, this time in his hair.

* * *

"CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!"

Harry stared, awestricken, as balloons and confetti magically fell from the ceiling and a charmed banner flashed _"Congrats to the Future Potter-Malfoys!"_ and then _"Or Malfoy-Potters..."_ before, finally: _"Whatever -- You bloody well get the gist! WE LOVE YOU, HARRY!"_

His heart beat quickly as he stared around the room full of mostly freckled faces. It looked as if the _entire_ Weasley clan had made it. Teddy and Andromeda, too! Ginny smirked fondly in the center of the crowd, Ron looked smug and accomplished to her right, and Hermione practically bounced up and down with excitement as Rose cooed happily on her hip.

He turned wide eyes to Draco, who looked equally flummoxed. _How did they even know?!_ He knew Ginny had planned to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about the pending divorce and the whys, herself, but the proposal had only happened last night and he'd only even gotten around to telling...

"That banner was a right bitch to make, Harry." Ron puffed out his chest proudly. 

" _Ronald,_ " Mrs. Weasley warned, looking pointedly towards the children. 

Harry swallowed dryly and was surprised by how weak his voice sounded when he finally spoke.

"I thought this was supposed to be a celebration for Ginny's safe return..."

" _Pshaw_!" George waved a hand in a mockingly flippant way. "Ginny nearly dying just means she gets to be doted on by mom and dad for life now, only solidifying her spot as the favourite."

"Let it have been me that got kidnapped by a madman and I'd _still_ have been in charge of degnoming the garden." Ron rolled his eyes. 

Ginny smiled smugly from where she stood, squeezed in between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with Blaise standing awkwardly off to the side.

Bill fought back his laugh and patted Ron on the shoulder, sympathetically, before chiming in:

"The point being that: Gin being the latest in a long line of Weasleys whose arse you've saved is reason enough to remind you that we love you and that we're happy for you, no matter what."

"And that you aren't allowed to leave our family because we might not survive without you!" George beamed, matter-of-factly. "And, though I never thought I'd say this, Malfoy's not so bad. Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's been one of the shop's biggest investors for years."

He winked at Draco who blushed and then shrugged at Harry's bemused look.

"They make me laugh and it's good quality stuff," he said, simply. 

Harry's eyes burned and his heart felt too warm, too filled with love. He was scared to trust it. Draco noticed and pulled him close, rubbing his shoulder, reassuringly, but it only made the feeling stronger, more intense.

"But you aren't..." He felt the heat rush all the way up to his ears as he choked out the words. "You guys aren't angry about Gin and I?"

Were they all really just accepting him as a part of their family? Even though technically he wouldn't be in very short time? He'd expected interrogations, tough conversations... that they'd have to rely on Luna to come up with some weird puppet show to help the kids make sense of it! And that was if they even wanted anything to do with him in the first place. A part of him (the most insecure parts) almost expected no hoopla at all, just a stale goodbye and a gentle shove out the door, a _"Well that was great while it lasted! Good luck and farewell!"_ type of deal.

It was Mr. Weasley who spoke next:

"Harry, there's nothing more beautiful than celebrating love and family, even if it means grieving what _was_ to make room for what _is_ and what's to come. So long as you're both happy, we're happy."

He smiled, ruefully, and squeezed his daughter's shoulder. Ginny gave him a wan smile and nodded, reaching for Blaise's hand.

"Well, _I'm_ certainly happy!" They turned to see Andromenda smirking smugly. "I think I speak for anyone who's ever had to sit through either of these two's angsty pining: It's about damn time!"

"CHEERS!" 

Harry and Draco both spun around to see Hermione, Ron, Blaise, and Ginny raise their glasses in agreement but were surprised to see that George, Angelina, and _Percy_ had, too!

"Hogwarts," Percy shrugged in response to all of the incredulous stares aimed his way. "I have eyes."

The room filled with laughter and Harry found himself filled with so much joy he was sure he could cast the brightest _peacock_ patronus in existence. 

Draco pulled him even tighter to his side and kissed his forehead as Fleur floated in snacks from the kitchen, Charlie and his Romanian boyfriend got the first round of exploding snaps going, and everyone shouted Mrs. Weasley down when she tried to put on Celestina Warbeck. 

"You have such a lovely family, Harry."

"Yea... I do, don't I?" He smiled sheepishly. 

He looked down when he felt a tug on his t-shirt to find that they were surrounded by little ones. 

"You've got good taste, Uncle Harry. He's preeetty!"

Harry bit back a laugh and Draco smirked smugly as Victoire giggled with Dominique.

"Of course he's handsome, Vic. He's my cousin, Draco!" Teddy said proudly, cheeks blushing as he not-so-inconspicuously changed his hair white-blonde and scooched closer to Victore.

Andromeda hid her snicker behind her hand and Bill fixed Harry with a deadpanned look from across the room that screamed: _"Fix this, will you? For Merlin's sake!"_ But Teddy was oblivious to it all as he stared up at his two favorite people in the whole wide world (besides his gram).

"This is the best news _ever!_ Does this mean I'll get to see you _both_ all the time now?"

Harry glanced at Draco, nervously.

He said he would stay. He'd only asked that he get to pick a new home because: _"If I'm going to give up my penthouse then I'm certainly not doing so to live in my great grandparents' home that my husband twiddled some chick in in every room."_ But still... Harry knew he hated the UK and, somehow, it seemed like Draco was making all the concessions and he didn't know that he, alone, could make it worth it for him...

Draco rolled his eyes at him, always seemingly aware of his worries, and flashed a dazzling smile at Teddy

"That's exactly what it means," he confirmed. 

Teddy ran over to hug them both round the middle.

"Good one, Draco!"

Draco raised a curious brow. "Whatever do you mean, Teddy?"

"What we talked about! You know, about you needing to find a boyfriend to play with? Harry's really fun so I'm sure he'll play a lot of fun games with you!"

Harry snorted and Draco blushed, fiercely, mouth opening and closing as if he didn't know where to even begin. 

"Yes, Teddy, I'll play all the fun games he wants me to." Harry laughed and discretely reached round to squeeze Draco's bum. 

"Watch it, Potter," he said through a terse smile. "Teddy, did you know there's cake? Why don't you lot go and find cake?"

There were excited squeals and then the kids ran off towards the kitchen. 

Harry laughed. 

"We have _got_ to talk to him."

" _We?_ " Draco furrowed his brow. "No, no, no. He likes girls -- that's all you! The only advice I have to offer is that girl parts are the weirdest things."

He cringed and Harry laughed again. 

"Really, Draco? What are you going to do when we have our own kids?"

Draco froze and Harry felt the flush creep up his chest and neck at his slip.

"Sorry! _Sorry!_ I guess I didn't... I don't know why... We..."

Grey eyes were searching his with burning intensity. Draco licked his lips, made to speak but then bit his bottom lip, instead. 

Why had he said that?? They hadn't discussed anything of the sort and he hadn't even seriously allowed himself to think about kids of his own since the miscarriage. Harry groaned inwardly, sure he had just managed to ruin everything, when soft lips found his. 

Draco's voice was rough when he finally found it. 

"Then I'll tell them all about what to watch out for when dating knuckleheaded boys and you can cover anything that involves even the remotest knowledge of female anatomy."

Harry smiled wryly when Draco held up a pinky finger. Harry wrapped his own around Draco's at the same time that their lips locked to the sound of more than a couple of wolf-whistles from his family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be going hiking without my laptop this next week so I don't think I'll be able to post. That said, next update can be expected next Sunday, September 13th unless I figure something else out. Hope you're enjoying!


	19. Peace, Light, and Incessant Owls

**Tuesday, 5th June, 2007**

There was a time when Draco didn't very much care for the light. His parents had always kept him in the shade when he was younger, thanks to his fair skin. The manor was dark, surrounded by dark decor and dark artifacts. The Slytherin common room, in the dungeons, under the lake was... dark. Of course, there were the dark arts, dark marks, and the Dark Lord that'd all been a part of a his world from the moment he was born... And it all came with the dark times that had once convinced him that even his very soul was dark. It had been a very long time before he embraced the light and, now, he found that he sought it and welcomed it with open arms.

Presently, his life was filled with light. It shone bright through the large open windows and pooled across the white sheets in the large king bed and the white rug and furniture scrawled across the big, open space of the master bedroom. It poured in from the skylight that let him gaze up at the blue, summer sky or catch glimpses of the passing clouds. And, mostly, it came from the bright, shining star that currently had him entrapped and suffused by heat and heavy limbs wrapped around him as if holding on for dear life. He chuckled. Before Harry, he'd never cared much for cuddling, either, but now he found that it was the absolute, very best way to start his morning -- or, at least it was when the culprit looked so heavenly.

He smiled, affectionately, as he studied Harry's snoozing form, his heart warming as he took in each insignificant detail. He marveled at the way the sunbeams refracted through the damask patterns of their sheer, white curtains to dance in the raven strands of hair bent at odd angles or illuminate the barely-there freckles on Harry's face. He tried to commit them each to memory before taking in the way long, black eyelashes fanned out over the tops of Harry's cheeks. And, of course, there was the lightening shaped scar that made the man he loved _The Boy Who Lived_ and, while he hated the pain Harry had known because of how he'd gotten that scar, Draco had never felt more grateful for it and what it represented: the fact that he was alive and here and had a shot at a real life full of love, happiness, and _peace_. With Draco.

For obvious reasons, peace was hardly a word that he nor Harry had ever imagined associating with their lives. As such, it felt absolutely surreal to reflect on their life together within the past five months and realize that: things _were_ , indeed, at peace.

Sure, there were a few stumbles in the beginning due to some differences in... tastes... but, he and Harry now found themselves mostly on the same page if not at least somewhere in the same chapter for most things. They'd developed their own routines, their own rhythm and, by some divine intervention, everything else seemed to be subtly clicking into place right along with the unique metronome of this fantasy life: he had been beyond touched to be so graciously and unquestioningly welcomed into Harry's family; he and Harry were officially settled into the quaint little villa Draco had fallen in love with (and he'd been thrilled when Harry'd let him talk him into setting up a muggle media room so they could watch MTV); working from the London office with Blaise and Alexandra for companionship had actually proven to be more fun than he was willing to admit; and even the consulting work he'd been doing with Granger-Weasley felt oddly magnanimous and important. Now, in just seven days, they would finally be Mr. and Mr. Potter-Malfoy! There was even something harmonious about the date: June 12th, the anniversary of the day they'd joined as partners all those years ago and the first time in six years that it was to fall on the second Tuesday of the month.

He leaned in to plant a light kiss on Harry's forehead and watched as emerald green eyes slowly blinked open, accompanied by a shy, sleepy smile.

"Good morning," Harry said in a hoarse voice.

Draco's smile grew devilishly as Harry shifted and something hard pressed against his thigh.

"Well, good morning to you, too," he purred, leaning in to steal an open mouthed kiss while his fingers made their way down the side of Harry's body, teasingly, with one destination in mind.

Harry's grin grew and so did his cock. He wrapped his arms tighter around Draco's waist and rolled so that he was on his back with Draco lying on top of him.

"Draco, love... Do you realize how beautiful a sight you are to wake up to?"

Draco's responding smile was brilliant. He rolled his eyes.

"But of course I am, Potter, why else would you be marrying me?" he quipped.

"Why else?" Harry captured his bottom lip and sucked, making Draco's already half-hard cock stand at full mast. "Shall I count the ways?"

"Hmm..." he hummed as he sat up to straddle Harry's hips and pulled his pajama shirt over his head. Harry licked his lips, eyes glued to Draco's bare skin as he sat up to slip off his own. "Maybe later," he said, rolling his hips and eliciting a delicious, raspy moan from Harry. He was just reaching for the tie on Harry's pajama bottoms when the sound of the floo coming to life downstairs made them both freeze.

_"Harry?! Harry are you there?!"_

Stevens' urgent shouts carried up the stairs and effectively defused the moment before it could even properly get going! Draco scowled and Harry shot him an apologetic smile before flipping Draco onto his back in one smooth, fluid motion. He kissed his nose before he stood and pulled on the nearest t-shirt (which was definitely Draco's).

"Sorry, love. Let me just make sure the world's not on fire then how bout you meet me in the shower so we can finish what we started?"

"Yea, yea," Draco pouted.

Harry leaned in again to kiss away his pout and looked thoughtful for a moment while he searched out his wand.

"How about I make you some chocolate chip pancakes after to make it up to you?"

Draco smiled, victorious. "Ok, Potter. Just hurry it up!"

Harry gave him a smirk and a salute as he walked backwards out the bedroom door. Draco smiled, warmly, and shook his head.

_Peace._

There was really only one area left in his life that felt discordant now... Right on cue, his heart jumped with a little jolt of panic at the thought he'd been avoiding for months now. He worried his lip as he looked to the writing desk in the corner and sighed. He'd hoped that he wouldn't be the one to have to make the first move but, of course, there was only one person better at the perpetual game of wizard's chess than he or even his father and, with the wedding ever approaching...

He took a deep breath as he stood and willed himself to slowly pad over to the desk. He reached for his smoothest writing quill and swallowed as he touched it to parchment. 

**_Dearest mother,_**

**_Fancy meeting for a tea?_ **

**_With love,_ **

**_Your son, Draco_ **

* * *

**_Harry, what were we thinking?! We absolutely have to have the Trou Normand. I owled Fleur and she agrees._**

**_Also, I changed my mind. I want millefeuille instead of the tarts._ **

**_~DM_ **

Harry frowned down at the note and then at the owl still perched on his desk as if it were actually waiting for a response to that. 

He sighed and shot a furtive glance at the two men who were sat across from him, watching curiously. He quickly scribbled back:

**_Draco, I haven't the foggiest what any of that means. Get whatever you want._ **

**_~HP_ **

He waved the door open with his wand and rolled his eyes as the owl flew away, its wings stirring the papers on his desk as it went. He rubbed at his temples and returned his attention to the two officials from the Australian MLE.

"Can somebody please explain to me why in Merlin's name this prick is still not yet under dementor watch _despite_ the fact that you've had reported sightings all along the Australian coast?" he asked, trying and failing to keep his voice even. 

The two blokes exchanged guilty glances.

"I'm not sure what to tell you, mate. Seems Sebastian Krafft is _very_ good at talking himself out of sticky situations."

"So are _most_ sociopaths." Harry frowned.

The other man simply shrugged.

"We have been giving it a fair go, mate. Got his face out among our lot and in all the muggle papers. Problem is, most of the good samaritans who reach out with tips refuse to dob on him once we get there, ay?" The other man nodded his agreement. "Somehow, he walks away with them thinking he's just some misunderstood larrikin."

"Now it's like the bloke has just vanished, racked off to Merlin knows where."

Harry was about five seconds away from yelling.

"So why are you here?"

It had been five months of this already. Harry had half a mind to say bugger international cooperation and go to Australia to find this piece of scum himself!

The first man pulled out a tiny box from his trouser pocket and pointed his wand so that it unshrunk to reveal an evidence box.

"We only have one side of the story--" he paused and turned when there was more persistent tapping at the glass window of Harry's office door.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh and shot them a terse, apologetic smile as he waved his wand to let it in. Of course this one also carried a letter written on parchment with _Z &M International _written in gold foil on the letterhead.

**_Please tell me you went to Madam Malkins' on your lunch break. At this rate you'll be wearing your regular old dress robes and I will_ NOT _have you make us the laughing stock of Witch Weekly._**

**_~DM_ **

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he responded.

**_Draco, darling -- Don't you have work to do? This is your fifth owl today and, if you don't stop, I_ will _murder you before Tuesday and then we won't have to worry about any of it._**

**_And, yes, I went._ **

**_~HP_ **

"You were saying?" he said as the newest owl flew away.

"Erhm," the bloke cleared his throat and shook his head as he continued. "I was saying that we only know one side of the story. We know very little about yous lot or what any of this might mean." He gestured to the box.

"We found this stuff at Sebastian's sheep station and haven't been able to make heads or tails of it. Detailed information regarding yourself, your ex-wife, and Draco Malfoy."

Harry frowned as he thumbed through some of the files and came across pictures and article clippings dating back to the war...

"We thought you might be able to make more sense of this. Maybe give us a better perspective on possible motives or next moves?"

"Right... Thanks," he said, distracted as he came across transcriptions from the death eater post war trials. What in Merlin's name had this guy been up to?

He spent another hour scouring through the box after the Aussies left. It was a peculiar collection -- mostly full of articles and snippets that painted Draco as some sort of super villain protege. Judging by the sheer amount of information, it looked like he'd been studying up on Draco for at least a year while his foray into Harry's life was much more recent and sparse. He felt his blood boil when he came across a report describing Draco as _'numb to all matter of evil, welcoming death in the absence of the Dark Lord'_ and found himself feeling incredibly grateful when Hermione knocked on his door.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked, noticing that he seemed upset.

He shook away the lingering anger and pulled himself together. He smiled, genuinely, when he noticed that her stomach curved out just visibly now, even with her flowy robes.

"Yea, I'm fine."

"Any luck with the Australians?" she asked, examining the framed picture on his desk of a surly looking Draco rolling his eyes and then smiling brilliantly. It was sat right next to his favorite crayon drawing of himself and Teddy.

"Not exactly." He pushed the box across the desk towards her and watched her eyes light up as she pulled up a chair and began rifling through it. "I'm telling you, Hermione, the MLE down there is rubbish. I'm tempted to just draw him out. I mean, I _do_ have what the sick bastard wants..."

She shot him a stern look. "Harry! You know you can't barter with something that dangerous!"

"Hermione, what if I'm not even the master of the thing anymore? Then it wouldn't even matter. Even if he thinks he's getting one over on me to 'win it,' it wouldn't even work properly for him and he wouldn't be able to do any more damage than he could with his own wand!" he said, kicking his feet up and leaning back in his chair. "Sounds like pretty good odds to me."

Hermione frowned, disapprovingly. "But, Harry, what if you _are_ 'still the master of the thing'?"

He sighed.

"You'll find him, Harry," she said, frowning as she examined one of the trial documents.

"I know. I have to."

Hermione sighed, lifting her eyes from the evidence to fix him with a sad, knowing gaze.

He didn't like loose ends. And he especially didn't like loose ends when someone threatened his family. His eyes sought out the picture of Draco as he thought the word. He'd promised himself to have this wrapped up before the wedding. The last thing he wanted to do was to start a family with a potential threat still looming over it.

Hermione put down the file and changed the subject.

"Sooo... Only one more week, Harry! Are you ready??" she leaned in, brimming with excitement.

Harry blinked back at her, slowly pulling away from the morose direction of his thoughts. "Yea... Yea, of course! Well..." He laughed abruptly and Hermione looked taken aback. "That is, if I'm not driven completely mad by my lovely groom by then. I could've sworn we both used the words _'small wedding'_ at the start of this..." he said, his eyebrows scrunching up in thought as he tried to pinpoint just how exactly they'd gotten to weird French food and _Witch Weekly._ Just last night they were allied around the fact that they were both glad to not have all the pomp and circumstance of their first weddings...

"Hmm... well, Harry, it _is_ Draco Malfoy... Are you really all that surprised that your definitions of _small_ are a little bit... _different_?"

Harry laughed. She was right, of course. It was like when Draco had told him that he'd found a _"Quaint little villa that was just perfect!"_ only for it to turn out to be a seven bedroom, five bathroom, four sitting room home complete with a media room, an English garden, and a winding grand staircase. He'd tried to argue then about unnecessary extravagance but Draco, the consummate salesmen, had rattled on about needing space for Teddy and children of their own and plenty of outdoor space so that they could play seeker games and wanting a room far enough away from the floo and magic bits that it could have a tv like Harry's old muggle flat and... Needless to say, Harry had walked away from the conversation with a huge new home and Draco seeming to have done the impossible, as he did every day: Made him love him even more.

Harry bit back his smirk and shook his head. Incessant owls notwithstanding, Harry was bursting at the seems with joy at the thought of finally marrying the spoiled, bratty, over-the-top arse love of his life.

When Draco had cautiously asked him if he wanted to do the traditional bonding ceremony, there had been no question. Harry guessed that Draco had probably expected him to balk at the pureblood tradition but Harry hadn't hesitated to say 'yes'. In a way, he felt that their souls were already bound by destiny but, after all the wasted years between them and all the loss he'd known, Harry welcomed anything that would solidify _forever_. And that's all he wanted with Draco, really.

"I'm so happy you're happy, Harry!" Hermione radiated warm sincerity.

"Me too, Hermione," he beamed back and he was surprised when he felt the lump in his throat. "I really am."

After _all_ that he'd been through, he finally knew happiness. 

They both jumped when yet another owl tapped on his office door. He aimed a _"See what I mean?"_ look her way as he let it in with a smile.

**_If you murder me, I'll only haunt you for the rest of your life. All of the demands, none of the sex._ **

**_~Love, Draco Potter-Malfoy_ **

Harry's heart warmed at the signature as he reached for his quill.

* * *

_"Gentlemen, I am impressed! It remains a pleasure doing business vith you."_

"Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all ours, Minister Oblansk. As I've said, Z&M International is invested in getting you results," Blaise laid it on thick, his most beguiling smile firmly in place. 

Draco played his part as he sat perched cooly on the edge of Blaise's desk, nary a hair out of place or wrinkle to be found in his pristine business robes as he nodded along on cue with the the floating head in the hearth. 

Only _he_ knew how utterly at odds it all was to the inner consternation now reaching a fever pitch. He might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all but he was pretty sure it would only come out as hysterics which, obviously, was bad for business. 

"Yes, home stretch, indeed! Mark my words, Minister: Draco and I are confident that this will be looked back on as one of the most lucrative events in wizarding history!" Blaise raised his glass and Draco pulled his head out of his arse to do the same and say his farewells. 

Blaise turned on him as soon as the green flames extinguished. "Draco, what was _that?!_ Where's your head today? And --" he paused as an annoyed looking Alexandra knocked on the door, another owled message in hand. " _And what's with all the bloody owls?!_ "

Draco ignored him as he crossed the room to take it and headed back to his own desk in the adjacent office.

**_Draco, I'm not sure what's got you all wound up all of a sudden but breathe, please._ **

**_Everything will be perfect and beautiful because you are to me, flaws and all._ **

**_That's all that's important to me and to anyone else that matters._ **

**_~Love you more,_ **

**_Harry Potter-Malfoy_ **

**_(It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?)_ **

Draco smiled. He closed his eyes and felt the stitch in his side ease and his breathing slow. Harry was right. He had Harry and Harry loved him unconditionally and that was enough. That was all that mattered. He took a deep breath but his eyes snapped open when he felt the parchment unceremoniously yanked from his fingertips.

Blaise's smug face turned incredulous as he read through it quickly.

"Draco, you two are ridiculous!" he rolled his eyes. "I never thought I'd see the day: The Prince of Slytherin gone sugary sweet! He's made you soft, mate!"

Draco laughed. "Quite the contrary, Blaise -- he actually keeps me quite hard," he countered with a smirk, feeling triumphant when Blaise's mouth fell open, indignantly.

"I'm going to choose to ignore that bit, but," He glanced back down at the note with narrowed eyes. "what _has_ gotten you all up in a tizzy today?"

Draco sighed as he summoned his caped cloak. He supposed he would wind up telling him sooner or later.

"Mother agreed to meet with me for tea at the Manor," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"Woah." Blaise's eyes had gone the size of saucers. "Draco, do you need backup? I'm done with meetings for the day, I can come with."

Draco smiled, ruefully, suddenly appreciative of his friend.

"No, I have to do this alone, I think."

Blaise nodded, solemnly.

They both turned as Alex marched through Draco's office door in a huff, nursing a nipped finger and bearing yet another rolled up piece of parchment.

"Owls, owls, _owls_! This is supposed to be an office, not a menagerie!"

Draco made to point out the white feather stuck in her dark brown hair but thought better of it when she fixed him with a scolding look that would have made any man shrink. He reached for the note, instead, and was surprised to see that it was from Goyle.

"Oh wait!" she shouted. "That one's for Mr. Zabini!"

But, too late. He frowned as he read through it and turned to Blaise, deadpanned.

"Really? _A_ _bachelor party?_!"

"Greg -- that _thunderhead_!" he groaned as he snatched the aforementioned letter asking for the date, time and place of said party. "And I know for a fact he's already received the invitation with all the details spelled out in big, bold prints! Well, one thing's for sure: I do not want to be the poor git who lets Pansy and Granger know the cat's out of the bag!"

"Granger?" He raised a sceptical brow as he snapped the clasps on his cloak. "And Pansy?"

"Yep, I know. Bizarre." He shrugged. "It's supposed to be a joint thing at some muggle bar. You and Harry's closest mates."

"Wait... You can't mean..."

"Yep. The most notoriously rivalrous group of Slytherins and Gryffindors in Hogwarts history forced into a room together." He shook his head, doubtfully. "You're lucky I love you, mate."

"Ha!" he laughed, already maniacally planning just how exactly he planned to spring this on Harry.

* * *

Draco apparated into the vast English garden that had always been his refuge and immediately felt at home. It was sad, he thought, that every time he'd done that since his divorce, a part of him was always surprised that the wards still admitted him.

He tried not to dwell too long on the thought as he wound his way through dazzling rows of colorful peonies, geraniums, fox glove, cosmos, and, of course, some of the more eye-catching magical flora and fauna. It wasn't long before he'd made it to the heart of the garden.

His steps faltered when he caught sight his mother's long, white, flowing hair. She was sat at a small garden table near the fountain, facing away from him while one of the house elves fixed two cups of tea.

He took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve as he let his feet carry him over to her. Her back stiffened visibly but she didn't turn around when she heard his approaching footsteps on the pebbled path.

"Draco," she said, pointedly, when he'd reached the table.

"Hello, mother." He hesitated for the briefest of moments before taking the seat across from her. He was surprised when she looked at him, head on, instead of avoiding his gaze though a deep v set in her furrowed brow. He felt the lump form in his throat and swallowed.

"Well... I suppose... You probably know that I am getting married?"

"Yes, so I've heard," she said, brusquely. Was she angry that he was getting married or that he hadn't told her himself? He couldn't tell. He had thought she wouldn't have wanted to know. He hadn't worried about father. Now that the sensationalized rescue of Ginny Weasley and the upcoming nuptials to Harry had Draco painted as Britain's new, gay darling, he'd undoubtedly collected every _Daily Prophet_ snippet and _Witch Weekly_ article and was dying to attend the ceremony to share the opportune public spotlight as the proud father. He would follow mother's league, however. Draco had hoped that when she inevitably found out, though, that _she_ would let him know when she was ready to talk about it.

He sighed and felt the cautious, scared, nervousness melt away into his own anger.

"I can't do this anymore!" he shouted, enraged and anguished as he made to stand up and leave. He was surprised when her hand shot out and wrapped around his left forearm. He looked down at it and then back at her. Her brow was furrowed in worry again but her face softened as she spoke:

"Draco, stay."

His eyes threatened to well up but he wiped at them swiftly, annoyed at himself and at this whole damned situation! He sat back down, all the same. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet floral scent heavy in the air around him.

"Look, mother, I love you but I can't keep being tortured like this!"

She nodded, solemnly, though her gaze seemed distant.

"What do you want, Draco?" she said after a long moment.

"I want my mother back! The one person I could count on during the darkest of times!" he pleaded. "I have light now, mother! I finally have _light!_ And I want you to share it with me!" She closed her eyes and he watched a single tear escape and roll down her cheek. "I want my children to know their grandmother as the nurturing woman that I knew! And, Salazar help me, I want my mother at my wedding!" He slammed his fist down on the wrought iron garden table and a few nearby birds took flight. Narcissa inhaled a shuddering breath but her eyes remained shut. His voice softened to barely a whisper. "Mother, will you please walk me down the aisle? Will you give me away?"

She opened her eyes again, the pain evident there. "But, Draco, darling... What if I don't _want_ to give you away?"

Draco swallowed, thickly.

"Well, then you've already lost me. Because it's either you accept that I am my own person, that you have raised me to be able to take care of myself and do what's best for me outside of your control, _while_ still loving and being there for my family, or I leave right now and I don't look back. There's nothing else that I can do."

It pained him to say it, but he knew it to be true. She looked terrified while she processed his words. She blinked back at him after a few long moments and he watched her resolve form. She nodded.

"Yes?" He didn't dare believe it. "Was that a yes?"

She reached across the table to take his hand in hers and squeezed, tightly.

"Yes, Draco, your father and I will be there," she said, thickly, wiping her tears with her free hand.

Draco wrapped her hand in both of his and pressed it to his forehead. His own tears came free and heavy, his shoulders sagging with relief.

He knew that they had a long, long way to go but maybe, just maybe, this was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're enjoying! 
> 
> **UPDATE Wednesday September 16**
> 
> I so hate to make changes to the posting schedule but I decided to make a plot change in this last part of the story and, no matter how much I'm tweaking the next chapter to get it the way I want in time to post on schedule today, I'm not happy with it. Please bear with me while I get the rest of act 3 (so to speak) together because I'd rather it all be harmonious than just post what I have and keep making changes.
> 
> Of course, kudos, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated!


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